Time
.
a
l
w
a
y
s
.
smiles
.
s
o
.
warm
.
a
n
d
.
bright,
.
.
o
n
.
.
pages
.
o
f
.
days
.
g
o
n
e
.
by . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
Time
.
a
l
w
a
y
s
.
smiles . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
Time
.
a
l
w
a
y
s
.
smiles . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
Time
.
a
l
w
a
y
s
.
smiles . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
s
o
–
–
–
warm
.
a
n
d
.
bright,
.
.
o
n
.
.
pages
.
o
f
.
days
.
g
o
n
e
.
by . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
a
n
d
.
.
.
I
cry . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
I
cry
.
f
o
r
.
the
sunshine
.
t
h
a
t
.
danced
.
s
o
.
wide
.
across
.
t
h
e
.
skies
.
o
f
.
summertime . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
I
cry
.
f
o
r
.
loves
.
a
n
d
.
likes,
–
–
which
.
i
n
.
my
life
.
n
o
.
longer
reside . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
I
cry
.
f
o
r
.
subtle
goodbyes
.
I
.
once
denied,
.
.
o
r
.
.
did
.
n
o
t
.
recognize . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
I
cry
.
f
o
r
.
rhapsodies
.
a
n
d
.
rhymes . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
I
failed
.
t
o
.
prize
.
a
n
d
.
hold
.
u
p
.
high . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
I
cry . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
I
cry . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
I
cry . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
when
I
realize . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
those
were
.
t
h
e
.
better
days . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
~ those
were
.
t
h
e
.
best
days . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
o
f
–
–
–
my
life . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
Those
were
.
t
h
e
.
best
days . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
Those
were
.
t
h
e
.
best
days . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
Those
were
.
t
h
e
.
best
days . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
o
f
.
.
.
my
life . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
~ a
life
.
l
e
f
t
.
behind . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
~ a
life
.
n
o
.
longer
mine . . .
–
–
–
.
.
.
I
cry.
Reflection: This is a melancholy-themed poem that I wrote in May of 2025 where the contemplator looks back on a wonderful past that was left behind – and he/she comes to the haunting realization those were the best days of his/her life. This was a poem which took an unexpected turn when I started writing it. I was listening to two, favorite 80s songs from my earlier years: “Space Age Love Song” by A Flock of Seagulls and “Don’t Change” by INXS. These songs conjured up warm images of summer and sunshine, and I felt warmly inspired by them. So, I played these songs on repeat, at low volume, in the background and started writing the poem. I had expected a warm, hopeful, inspirational kind of poem but, as always, when writing poetry, I just let the words and phrases go in any direction they choose. So, what I ended up with was a melancholy-themed poem instead of the hope/inspirational-themed poem I had expected. Oh well, that’s the way writing goes sometimes. In my experience, the better poems write themselves and take whatever direction they choose. So, I’m just going to leave it at that. Perhaps someone will gain something from it in its current form.