Yearbook 1960

Flipping through the pages Skimming the dried ink So many questions it raises Oh, the many things I think Who are these young faces And where are they, today Though they left many traces Green, they couldn’t stay The smell of aged paper Nostalgia hits my nose 20th century flavor Ketamine and blow They wrote of their “tomorrow” But that was yesterday I feel a bit of sorrow They’ve surly passed away I compare them to myself And ponder my demise Tucked away on a shelf Live all these hopeful eyes