Remember, back when we were young,
everyone was earnest and sincere.
A word spoken was a word kept.
Early morning at the railway station,
the long street dark, no one about,
the little shop selling soy milk steaming.
In those days the daylight moved slowly.
Carts, horses, the mail—all were slow.
One life was only enough to love one person.
Locks in those days were handsome too,
keys finely made, with a proper look.
Once you locked it, the other person understood.