I hurt in a way that can’t be explained,
I suffer from loss and dismay.
At age sixty-nine,
I’m still doing fine,
So I guess everything is okay.
I wonder what happened to all my old friends.
I’ve lost touch with folks that I knew.
They’ve gone their own way,
But maybe someday,
I’ll be able to contact a few.
But if I ever should find them,
Would I really remember their name?
Their faces have changed,
Their lives rearranged,
Would there be any that stayed the same?
We all have a similar factor,
That isn’t a visual thing.
Our memories of
The ones that we love,
Can still set our old hearts to sing.
By Don Rothra