Sentimental, awash with nostalgia
Do you remember, or are you scared
Think on; only of or from the past
No ideas here, for an unknown future
Even Nineteen-Eighty-Four is way back
There now a place no more than a wilderness
The easy rider’s have smoked their last cheroot
Today is it then only a reflection
But what of tomorrow; to walk naked
Down the high street, or some other form
Of soul baring, or extravagant expression
Rose petals in gardens falling, more or less to be
See, with our own eyes wide open
Close them only
For ourselves to dream
There to intensify our own, fresher thoughts
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