Moth's to a flame
they call my name
out of the woodwork they came.
Laughter and wonder
What rock have you been under?
The summer heat's disturbed your slumber.
Memories retold.
Questions asked, quite bold.
Young at heart yet feeling old.
Semi precious thoughts.
Hold on to what you've got.
Let go of what you have not.
Blowing on the embers.
Ask if I remember
Those memories quite tender.
Moth's to a flame
out of the woodwork they came.
They call my name
but it's not the same.
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