Woodstock

I still have my tickets
And what I recall
Was the feeling of kinship
Connecting us all.

We rolled down our windows,
In traffic for miles,
As peace-fingered V-signs
Elicited smiles.

“You goin’ to Woodstock?”
We’d shout as we passed
Though since everyone was,
We knew we’d have a blast.

They talk of the mud
And the sex and the drugs
But we went for the music
And peace, love and hugs.

The 60’s was magic
With hope in the air
And all who remember
Were glad to be there.