As time went on, I believe even that was becoming less.
Gray hair, real gray hair. Not like the blue of today.
Stout, maybe from the much pan fried foods or late night snacks
Of cream cheese, jam and graham crackers.
Weekdays filled with ironing clothes for men with no women.
Nights, with late night TV, when late night really was TV
With Johnny Carson.
Weekends were stories of the past, card and board games
The house filled with the scent of chewy black licorice candies,
Rose from long ago and warm strawberry poptarts.
Boy, do I miss those poptarts.
So many times we’ve sat at the table of memories
Stories of past, some of yet to come.
Tales of one wiser than I.
Toasting with barrels of cheer.
Remembering those times and visions they hold.
They shared voices of yesteryear will remain.
As will the same, the memories of you.