Is there gold quite like the sun
Of those squirming, giggling afternoons?
Given the choice, how would you replace
The bus rides full of ambitions,
And the albums full of parties, Irish castles,
First kisses and hugs next to the heart,
And, most importantly, smiles?
All the promise in the world was ours.

Let your mind burgeon
And expand to fill the space
That it was meant to fill
And let your swift feet take you where they will.
But…
Don’t expect your soul to change with the seasons.
Don’t get lost in your impeccable suit.

Because no good can ever come
Of uprooting your heart.
It knows its native soil
And cannot thrive elsewhere.

And remember, sweet companions,
That all the best things are timeless.
If you get blisters
Running barefoot over the green, papery Earth,
That’s how you’ll know you belong
In the albums.