The windchimes of a distant past

The mirror lied no more
The eyes and skin no longer as fresh as they were of yore
The diaries had become numerous
Stacked one on top of the other; it appeared hazardous

It seemed only the other day when the village streets were narrow
And we would chase each other and the odd sparrow
Played in the rain and caught a cold
And the quack in the corner would grow his income multi-fold
A thrashing though awaited us at our door

In the wilderness they said the spirits were bare
Putting on white cloaks it was us who gave the town a scare
Fresh fruits and fresh wine
No schools but a wealth of education to mine

It was then,
I heard the half-blind watchman guarding the alley ring a bell,
From my bed I jumped up, forty years away
Those were the windchimes of a distant past