My memories are a museum now.
I am looking at exhibits — artefacts of the past.
Sometimes there is an air of regret, sometimes joy.
My memories are a museum now.
Tag: memory
What Became Of Those People – Written Tuesday 27th May 2025 (Aged 50)
I wonder what happened to —
became of —
those people
who crossed my path.
Creases and Folds – Written Monday 19th May 2025 (Aged 50)
Everything becomes old.
Time itself
has upon its being
creases and folds.
London and Smitten – Written May 2025 (Aged 50)
Back then, I seemed so far away
from being a child,
but a child I was —
still a fledgling in my thoughts.
Never Ending Parade – Written Monday 31st March 2025 (Aged 50)
The never-ending parade that marches through a street
Feels like the friends that I no longer meet
Free Market Storm Clouds – Written January 2025 (Aged 49)
We were the final wisps of an analogue age,
the final people to manually turn a page
Bonfires of Human Lust – Written Wednesday 27th July 2022 (Aged 42)
self-image –
and self-worth
ran away –
and hid in a saxon church
Worth Living After All – Written Thursday 9th March 1995 (Aged 20)
today i came to terms –
with some feelings –
that i have for someone else
Learning To Hold My Breath – Written Monday 6th March 1995 (Aged 20)
at least you know i am here
i wander blind,
and everything remains unseen
The Boy Behind The Glasses. Poetry and Writing 