Rembering the Past on Lawn of Weeds.

Fresh cut grass, to play upon
with brother, friends, we sang along
the summer, winter, fall and spring;
What joyous times the past did bring.
It was once tilled to plant anew;
we got in trouble, playing through
the un-grown lawn, we couldn't wait!
We simply wanted dirt to cake
our fingers, toes and face.
We set up courses, ran a race
from jungle gym, across the lawn.
Good friends and I stayed out till dawn
from sunset in the summer nights

--Oh my Lord, those summer nights.

I made sweet love to Her right here,
and there I cried a thousand tears
when love was lost; and then again
I re-found love and lost again.
But now the green is turned to gray,
with yellowed weeds, just like my past.
Mark your spot, remember Zeke?
We played with Cindy just right there.
Before you were even a pup,
I yabbed with Yabber under stars,
bright summer stars.
The memories are turning gray,
Just like the grass, dying, gray.
Tackle football, water tennis,
Throw grenades! Defend the fort!

Such was the life in adolescence,
knowing only innocence.

It does not do, to be depressed:
It only makes your life a mess,
and hard to live, to dream, to be.
But right now all I see
is dead, gray grass and dying weeds.

I guess this is just growing up.

Like the grass that's turned to gray,
the mem'ries do all fade away.
Child inside: I envy you.
What a life, with watered lawn
on hot, hot days to fall upon.
But now the green is only gray
with yellowed weeds--God, what a shame.
Do not despair, for who said life was ever fair?
As is all, the grass must die
and turn to gray
just like the mem'ries, going gray.