The Way We Were (Poetry)

I still think of them as young —
those fresh-faced biker boys who came around
when I was in my eager teens and they
were older by maybe a year or so.

I never saw them grow to middleage —
after the coffee bars and parties were outgrown
things changed — we all went our different ways —
no looking back when times were swinging by...

Now those faces come to mind — matched or not
                                to names —
the fizzing energy of youth stamped through and through
as memory connects with images caught true
and colourfast — those looks preserved

as though immortal — untouched in forty years...
And in such nostalgic moments comforting fancies come —
that one or two of those boys might once in a while recall
how I was back then — let themselves imagine somewhere
                                that girl lives on ...