"Wasn't that swell?",
She chirped as we surfaced.
"What a well to slip into!
All dark and deep and new!",
Wet and cold and young we sat
In the dirt which we made into mud.
Never a smile I'd had nor will have
Could make such soda of my blood.

Yesterday though is overrated
Just like everything else that's old.
Even the summertime wisdom is cold.
Now either that wisdom has made me jaded,
Or I'm just upset that the past never faded.