When We Were Young On Walnut Street

I hardly noticed the glimpse of gray in your hair, I thought it made you look distinguished and it made me feel safe when we Sunday strolled the picture perfect park and, there, made a picnic of our love... Captivated by your sad guitar and how your hands looked strong enough to strum away my every fear... I would pay the price of any admittance ticket Now, just to hear your tender tone But I was far too young then... unassuming and dangerously defiant... wasteful, when we were young, on Walnut Street We forgot to count the hours, and never minded the afternoon sunshowers on days you'd leave work early famished for my kisses.... We never even bought a bed... Instead we made due, and made love in the makeshift caccoon of body heat Our synchronicity of breathe swayed us into slumber.... Foolish formulation drew us apart and there were fewer trips to the art museum And eventually your guitar sought another muse I searched the stars, for a roadmap back to my New York skyline... And left regrettably, without knowing What it would be like to grow old with you.... When we were young on Walnut Street