When I’ve grown old and my hair’s turned white, I’ll dye it blue.
I’ll think of you, of all of you, who drank the past.
I’ll have many cats, like other good old ladies do.
I’ll watch the boys outside who wear their boys’ hats,
The girls who smile and dance.
I’ll know that nothing ever lasts, I’ll remember, just by chance,
This one lady in her garden,
And her spring of roses,
And the cat she whistled to
And called by name,
And her hair, all dyed blue or purple,
That made me think of you, all of you.
Memories that last in love songs born by chance,
Cats that dance in gardens with roses,
People, old and blue and new,
Who taught us the remembrance of that which never lasts?
donika emille 