Yesteryears

Sometimes I dream of yesteryears,
Forgotten joys, forgotten tears,
When youth's fresh flush
Boldened my heart,
First love's sweet joy gave me a start,
And in its bloom I felt life's force,
Tasted the fountain at its source.

Where are they now, those splendid days,
When color reigned, not dark and grays,
And all was vivid, fresh and bright,
My world, so sunny, filled with light.

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2005 Alfred Charasz