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
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