Drifting nostalgia from freshly turned soil,

raw sweet aroma of virgin breath born

incites my heart to manifest a memory

Sometimes I yearn
to return to the time
of young and foolish
without a dime.

Those were the days
of just you and me,
living

I Dream of Africa

Some time ago I left my home,
far away in the African sun.
I boarded a plane for a foreign land,
my new life

The best of times are in the past

When first was good and sure to last

When we were young and passions free

When love was

Times of the past
We want to walk again

The hats of the young
Take a bow 
Walking past adults

The windows
The doors
Remain