Where are the platform boots of long ago,

Where the embroidered velvet loons?

Where are the girls in cheesecloth smocks,

the imperfect kisses under perfect moons?


Where the patchouli-scented afghan coats

that smelled of dog at the first drop of rain?

Where are the boys with sequins on their faces,

applied with care, removed with rending pain?


Where are the vinyl discs of yesteryear,

the friendly drugs that drove nobody mad?

Where is the knowledge that the things you loved

were hated by your mum and dad?


All gone, the glitter of what used to be,

Except in vintage shops, and memory