CHANGE

by LaRue Watts

The seasons come, the seasons go
And nothing stays the same, although
I wish there was a way to hold
On to those bygone days of old.
When doors were never locked at night,
When kids played games without a fight,
When we were all a kinder race
And "Please" and "Thank you" were in place.
When Sullivan on Sunday night
Could make the weekend turn out right.
When Disneyland was still a goal
And Santa never gave you coal.
When every neighbor you knew well
And telephones were not a cell.
I miss those days that now are gone,
When, as a nation, we were one.
But I hold on to faith, my friend.
For onsets, new, around the bend.
So call me crazy.  Call me strange.
Call me when there's been a change.