© Graham Spence



I was young with little time spent
My school tongue tied away
Hid from the rule like no bodies fool
There was Jack Frost on a window pane
Making pictures in a cold north wind
The clock was my friend
Now it never waits for me
Well I can’t stop the time
The river or the rushing tide
It just keeps moving on like yesterday


I was a friend of the optimistic
Saw the eye of destiny
Rode all the seasons all the years
Those times are coming back to me
Open fires and a wind-swept face
They were precious times - special times
Now the past so gently awakes
In the firelight of the night
Until the morning breaks like yesterday


Walking in shadows of the past
Where nothing can ever change
 Finding hidden words from long ago
Just down a cobbled track
There’s the lure of open spaces
Words to paint pictures or stories still untold
So here I stand where my past still gently sleeps
Hand in hand with yesterday – like yesterday