Teenage boys - well I angst you?
When ‘she’ was around the next corner.
When the ice went on and on,
and tip toe was above the dark cold void,
we were all addicted to finding the bluest sky,
to kiss under the lilac trees,
on the sunniest of sunny days.
Yet the rain fell in tear-sodden sheets,
a halo around the orange lamplight night;
and the walk home was a lonely dark.
Turning to look over your shoulder,
to peer down every sliver street;
was to look in vain, in vain.
It never would be; and yet we knew it would.
For all corners turn the world around,
and no one can be hidden for ever.
And if we walk the walk, we may meet.
And if we talk the talk, we may walk
some more and then ... we ...
So, we plod the dream around the corner,
under the same old street lamp,
in the same old rain,
day after day,
night after night,
for one day we might.