It seems like only yesterday,
That I was hitchhiking across Kansas.
I was bound for the Rocky Mountains,
And the different life that I hoped to find there.

It seems that we came from everywhere,
All looking for something else,
Other than the life that our parents planned for us,
But with nothing concrete in our minds.

It was a time of music,
And love was easy to find,
We smoked what we grew in the mountains,
And otherwise lived off the land.

My skis were my treasured possessions,
And really, I had nothing else,
But an old beat up Jeep for transportation,
And I was sure that I had enough.

We discussed politics ad infinitum,
And we determined what was right and what was wrong,
But surprisingly our values resembled,
Nothing that we'd been taught when we were young.

Those times were the times which were simple,
Nothing like what later became,
A typical and traditional nuclear family,
Smiling from inside the picture frame.

But everything has come full circle,
And I am beginning to feel young again,
Writing poetry from my cabin in the woods,
And those close to me asking if I'm sane.