The Fires of Youth may die away
then sink to ashes and embers.
High romantic dreams may vanish,
but the heart remembers everything.
The buried past is there.
The rapture of loves first delight,
the joy and despair.
The faces and the friendship
and their names of long ago,
lie beneath the drifting years,
like leaves under snow.
It's at this point, the old road ends
it's time to remember,
all family and friends.
The dropping of grudges,
and the casting a side
of grievances,
feuds and petty pride.
The heart remembers,
when it has been broken,
then patched up with,
some sort of token
Is this the way to ask forgiveness
when the words come hard to say.
The heart remembers,
how you tried your best,
and forgives you, in every way.
