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.

4/2/9.

You're at the bottom!