The summer is over and the shadow of winter casts a cold fog at my back door early this morning. I am prepared for a cold winter. The summer of love ended in September 1967 and all those love children moved on. Or did they? Heart broke and the loss, and melancholia at the end of what seemed like a free lunch that would go on forever... Marty Balin and that Jefferson Airplane crowd seeped away, like the others that lead the culture, clots from a dying dream and headed back to real town, USA.
You must be logged in to post a comment.