By Rodney Schmidt: 1968
To look into the sky,
brings back pleasant memories.
I recall my youthful days,
when love was fresh and new.
It was so pure with morals high,
as near as I recall.
But as always, in a haze,
that love did fade away.
And now as love again draws nigh,
I cannot help but think.
Will it end as always, in a fiery blaze?
It just can’t happen again.
But then this person, who catches your eye,
as sweet as a morning rose.
You lose yourself in a million ways,
and dream how it will be.
And once again, you heave a sigh,
to enter reality.
What else is there to say,
except “I told you so.”