Riffing Yesteryear

~

I hear the birdsong,

  thrilling.

I see the young girls,

  thrilling.

And still!   I was just

  as willing.

 

All of that 

  was  yesteryear.

 

There’s no sense

  regretting;

there’s nothing

  besetting;

the here and the now,

  where we live.

 

Forget it.    It’s gone.

    Not here.

 

Yet,

I watched it slowly

  slipping,

I saw it lose

  it’s gripping.

Each day,

  as it went,

     it went tripping.

 

Every hour,

  evermore,

    it was slipping.

 

And all   that there was

    is not here.

 

There’s no sense

  regretting,

no sense

  resenting,

there’s no sense in riffing

  yesteryear.

 

So…

so long,

  to all of that

    way back there.

 

We’ll go on from here,

  and just keep forgetting

all of that

that was from

    yesteryear.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

©2013, Marvin Loyd Welborn

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