I suppose it is a time of nostalgia and reflection.
Long ago, it must be... I have a photograph. Prison your memories; they're all that's left you.
That's what I remember, when in the age of junior high, I first heard this song. I always heard it as "preserve" instead of "prison"... which is what we do with photographs and journals and keepsakes of years gone by. Looking this up tonight, I suppose it does, in some ways, imprison a certain version of what we remember.
Can you imagine us years from today
Sharing a park bench quietly
How terribly strange to be 70...
I'm more than halfway there, and able now to recognize the loneliness inherent in this statement. I hope I have a friend to share a park bench with at 70.
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