How It Used To Be
Take me to a time
When there was no water
Take me to a time
When innocence
Couldn’t describe your daughter
When the only path
Was a stairway to no where
When you only think strangers care
Only to find
No one even bothers to stare
Is that how it used to be?
The more you tell me
The further I see
Is that how it used to be?
Were you all alone?
With no where to roam
No place to call home
Did you make soup from stone?
And when you looked toward the mirror
Did you see only a skeleton of aging bones?
Do you miss the laughter?
Do you miss wanting to see
Who would remain there after?
Do you still chase a hopeless dream?
Do you still lead a life broken in scenes?
Is everything we stand for just a fading theme?
Do you still move as often as dust on a windy day?
Do you still wish for Decembers so cold
That you’d sell your only belongings
To see early days of May
Is that how it used to be?
Was that you, all alone, with no where to roam
No place to call home
Did you make soup from stone?
Lately have you only seen a skeleton of aging bones?
Copyright © Jerry Golden | Year Posted 2008
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