I am Yesteryear’s child with antique thoughts
And Victorian habits, covered in cobwebs.
I hear the chimes of days gone by
Reminding me of history,
They toll for me.
I eagerly search the once was bins
Seeking for that which once inspired
The poor, the immigrant, the tired,
That haven’t been devoured.
I venture through the days of yore
For hidden truths,
Hoarded ones, dust covered,
Perhaps tear stained,
That have remained.
I roam among the former days
Hunting down what can be found
Of childhood dreams and fantasy.
I wonder where the yellow went
Or Blondie, Tracey, and Clark Kent
I look for timeless, golden relics
Once cherished, now forgotten,
Buried beneath progress,
Five cents candy and ten cents bread
Fresh chicken, never hormone fed.
I am a child of hoary times
Surrounded by reality.
I hold on to my memory
Of years pushed back by destiny
While yesteryear’s chimes toll out to me.
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