Living in the past . . .

when everything was yesterday
all we did was play and play
a little time to get away
to some familiar golden day
when everyday was standard time
and everything was so sublime
and all our moments superprime
and all our words just seemed to rhyme
we never knew the touch of sorrow
or feared the coming of the morrow
we rode the moment with the flow
and danced beneath the pale moon's glow.

1998