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I was a child in seventy
Just coming home from war, and free.
I'd learned some truths,
and lived some lies,
and dreamed a dream we'd realize
a generation of peace.

I found some other children who
were dreaming dreams of such things too.
With youthful hopes, in love with love,
we thought the world could rise above
the madness of our century.

Chorus:
I was the dreamer and the poet.
Michael lived without a care.
Julie was his gentle lady,
wore a flower in her hair.
Pretty Susan marched and flirted,
summer-tanned and mini-skirted.
John and his philosophy,
we found a perfect harmony.

Dark rooms full of smoke and silence.
Evenings passed with words and wine.
Dreams dismantled, re-created,
new world orders generated
in the singing of a song.

But time can cool the fires of passion.
Moments change to history.
Black and white give way to shading.
Dreams and old friends faces fading
on the edge of memory.

Chorus

But now I've come to understand,
the future's in my childrens' hands.
Perhaps they'll live my dreams for me
and bring this sad world finally
a generation of peace.

Hi Robert ~

It sounds like you're just my age, and like we were in some of the same rooms, with the same people. I like the way you progress time in your song. It sounds like it would be a good song for listening, possibly singing along.

~ Lizzytysh

I like this so much. It flows, it grows, it meanders through my mind.

Thanks for posting it

Pete

hi Robert,
thanks a lot for your lovely poem...I love the way you've expressed your young years...
and you are right...in the hands of our children is the future of this world...but I believe it depends on the seeds that we've sown in their mind as well...
so, I hope we did a good job...

Iubita

Thanks to all for the encouragement and kind words.

I think one of the reasons I like to come in here is that you folks appear to be kindred spirits, harkening me back to an earlier more hopeful time. I've never been able to divest myself of my youthful idealism, actually I've never tried. I reminds me of "those evenings".

Iubita, I think that history is the story of the dreams we pass on to our children, so I agree, the most important thing we may ever do in our lives is to pass on the "seeds" of a newer word...a peaceful world, a just world. for without justice there can never be peace, only order. That's why I called this the Children of the Renaissance, a renewal of a dream.