For my family this street did once exist, It’s there each day,

We were all just young children, run all day and play.

We left It behind, most of It lost from our minds,

A street with a name, each house had a friend that went away.

When does a street become a family, together we share and disappear,

I remember a friend, Michael John, where have you been?

Nine was I as you were only seven, We ran and played In the Summer sun,

Amber was a fine, little dog, You were my friend from a long time ago.

Gomero Circle was a part of our lives, a girl named Robin, Marcy, and Tony,

Running down the street, mud and water touched our small feet.

Nineteen seventy one, so much fun laughing, remember a childhood that’s done,

We thought It was our own as today there are new lives that do roam.

Keith Garrett

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