The Tracks Of My Years

We sat cross legged in summer dusk

A smoky haze passing through

Admired artwork airbrushed

In fantastic swirls of colour

Reading words in synchronised

Staccato with the music

Flowing from the stereo

Simpler times

Longer hair

No aching joints

I wish we could do that again

But friends disappear like exhaled smoke

And some a...

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