I’d like go back to
Before John Lennon was gunned down,
Before the Beatles broke up,
Before ticket prices were a days wage,
Before record stores went under,
And there was only one Main St.
I’d like to go back to before my mind was filled with how to make ends meet,
And laying awake at night wondering if I have I have enough for “independent living.”
When my heart was pulled towards dancing in places with live music, good friends and laughing til my belly ached.
When “Brown-Eyed Girl” became a Sing-A-Along, drummers were respected and everybody knew the name of the bass player.
I want to go back to when the music wasn’t just in the background and dancing was close and tender.
When my waist was tiny, and so was his, and gray hair was only on grandparents and wise old folks.
I want to go back, to riding in our pick up truck in four inch heels and staying out all night and rolling it seamlessly into a work day.
When the face in the mirror was absolutely lovely and nothing could ever change my reflection.
Before Paul and Ringo had grandchildren and I had to explain The Moody Blues,
And I got blank stares when I mentioned Bob Dylan,
Before micro breweries and digital music and live streaming,
Before the Internet, endless technology and TMI,
When bliss was your favorite song on the radio, with the top down, your hair in the wind, and the world was your oyster.
I want to go back to when I had no idea just how fortunate I was to have the young healthy body that I had and my life was being played out by the Top Ten.
It was fantastic.