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Soft, distant songs on the old radio,
recalled like a visit to long, long ago.
Neighborhood concerts, held in the park.
The swing on the porch, in the warm summer dark.
Fond, faint visions of the old swimming hole,
a daily refreshment for body and soul.
Hot afternoons, at rest in the shade,
cooled by a breeze, and cold lemonade.

Long, long ago, in another time.
A time of crooners, and poet's rhyme.
Just a brief whiff of nostalgia-perfume,
wafted through time, like roses in bloom.
Back down the Road, just a mile or two -
how simple was yesterday's view.

Family picnics, and neighborly sharing.
Singing together, in an aura of caring.
Evening strolls down a country lane.
The gentle wash of soft, summer rain.
Pieces and patterns that were part of it then,
are all still with us, and could build it again.
We carry the promise. We each have a part.
Close to our center. Deep in our heart.

No - we can't go back. We want to go on,
bearing good memories, as we move along.
We can build with the best we recall of the past,
and bring to the future the Spirit that lasts.
Always remember, where it always must start -
in the faith and hope of the heart.

(© 1997-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis)