I slowly wander down my memories
Ignoring every door I could step through,
Examining the hallway as I please,
And wondering what else I ought to do.
I do not wish to leave this house of thought
But not because I fear to live - no, more
Because each inch of it was dearly bought,
And reminiscing settles up that score.
Yet even as I think about the past
I will not think about specific things
Because when used, my memories won't last,
And I've a mind that instinctively clings.
So I will keep them fresh by just recalling
A vague sense of the past. No, I'm not stalling.
No comments:
Post a Comment