In those days

In those days, I was thinner and my hairline was lower.
I could run faster and lift more.
In those days, I always held doors open for people,
And I never said “no” to a cookie.
Was the world a little greener, a little brighter?
Or is it the dull haze of nostalgia that makes me think so?
In those days I worked hard at life.
I have nothing to show for it,
Accomplished little of real value,
But I worked hard every day.
In those days I laughed at adversity.
I was in love in those days.
With whom I could not say.
With the grass and the trees,
With the quiet spaces between,
With college students on the street,
With Dostoevsky and Kafka and Nietzsche.
With Airplane and the Blues Brothers.
With Heinlein and Asimov and Bradbury.
I was in love in those days.
Now I am older and slower
And it is harder to be strong.
The green of the grass makes me tired
More than spring makes me fevered.
I only work hard if I have a deadline
And I always have a work product to show for it.
Life is a chore.
But in those days, in those days,
Ah, I was in love in those days.