The Places of my Youth
The places of my youth are there
Though the friends of my youth
I no longer see. They are gone.
I wander alone and old on grey days
Carrying my bundle of memories
Like a tramp's stick and bundle
Used, worn-out but still fondly clung-to.
People are stranger and younger;
Myself and the buildings older.
My friend lived and died over there.
There's where I used to sign on
And there's the library I stood outside of.
Even on sunny days
The sun shines on a desert
Because my youth and friends are gone
Leaving me alone among strangers,
Alone in the street, in the field, in the house.
Wherever I go I'm alone.
I was young and now I'm old,
But I can't say I wasn't told.
You're at the bottom!