One really can't help wondering,
if to wondering you're prone,
With so much to be thankful for,
We choose to moan and groan.
Our thoughts hark back to 'Yesterdays',
When we were young and strong.
Our world was then a perfect place,
Where nothing could go wrong.
Our air was unpolluted,
The pace of life was slow.
God was in His heaven,
And all was well below.
Was all this an illusion?
Or has Time dulled the brain;
Erasing every memory
Of suffering and pain?
We're all the idiots of Fate,
However hard we strive,
Against the odds which threaten us
To keep our Dreams alive.

10th July, 1996