Beneath the palm trees of Palm Springs, on a street called Monterey, there was a house. A house that was built in 1958.
51 Years later, we sipped drinks by the pool and listened to Frank on the Hi-Fi. We even drove by his old home. We rung in the new year with brothers, sisters and friends. We reminisced. And everything came into perspective.
Why not call it a day
In a sensible way
And we’ll remain friends