That day 1964, you the dreaming wordsmith, you said our dreams were ‘33
lights to the wind’,
We spent years believing that the sunset had red sails, now that old sea still rolls,
but you are no longer here to light up the time with wonder, wonderful you full
of dreams and young heart starlight imaginings and sunset smiles.
Does anyone live 33 lights to the wind anymore? Has the age of dreams left the
The maturity hookers won the war, the young of today leave childhood at 8 years
old, the sea and the long shorelines are lonely for dreamers.