The Good Old Days
As cold comes
I long for my youth more often.
I am getting old.
My knees ache, my back more hunched.
The wind, which used to make me feel alive,
now is cold and uncaring.
I long for days when I ran free
under a bright blue Panamanian sky.
The air was warm and comforting, like
an old friend who knows you well.
Grass, soft and springy under bare feet.
In the jungle I could be anything I wanted.
Friends I had were like friends we all have
in our youth. You loved them,
and hated them, and loved them again,
all in the same day.
We swam, fished, and talked
Friends I have today are few
and far between. None of us run.
We are content to watch our children swim.
When we talk the conversation always swings back
to how it used to be.
I find little comfort knowing I am not alone
in longing for “the good old days”.
The picture was taken in 1971 nearly two years after we moved from Michigan to Panama. OK the sky isn’t all that blue in this shot but I just kind of like it. That is me in the corner.