It was a special time
It was a special place
Where we lived, loved and made bread.
I with fourteen other people
Of the same thoughts and minds
The confusion and our rules
Somehow worked
People of the street
Girls looking like boys
And visa versa
Yet everybody cared
For everybody else
No harsh words
Lots of cuddles
Listening to music
Until the dawn
When the clink of milk bottles
Revived us for another day
My time there does not fade
But becomes a distant, happy
Nostalgic echo across the years.
(learning to live with others)
Learning to live with others is what its all about, brother. Accepting people for the way they want to be, not for the way others want them to be. 'Everything alien is human to me.' -Phyllis Gotlieb, poet & science fiction writer.
Such a poem should be mailed out to all the leaders of the free and fierce worlds. Good essense of the moment Willow, very good. I will a-'ten' to it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
So strange - as soon as I read this, I went back to check your age. It sounds so Hippie. I'm from the same age group and our mantra was make love, not war. Were those the good old days?