Perhaps

Old songs drift across the bar
Differing for every generation
Bits and pieces of memories
clear as shattered crystal

A young man in the fifties, my songs
cry out from the thirties and forties
The decades before me beckoning
while talking up the eighties in the nineties

Times gone, flown like Pierce Arrows
Anachronous as Bogie and Bacall
Forgotten roadhouses and dance bands
Unforgotten memories of heads on shoulders

Drifting smoke before the Marlboro Man
Eyes that never screamed, but touched
Conversations softly held and hands
that sometimes softly held the words

Will they build nostalgia for today
The music no longer melody, but noise
Generations look back on these times
Remember, yearn for them again from there

Perhaps