Were I to dream,
then dream I would
of days that have gone by.
Your eyes would gleam
and so would mine,
but joys remembered are no longer mine.
I walk in a garden of memory,
reliving the joys and the sorrows as well.
I walk with a cane down memory lane,
perhaps there, joys remembered will remain.
Perhaps when my hair has turned to gray
and my face is etched with pain,
I’ll walk with a cane down memory lane.
Perhaps there, joys remembered will remain.