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: poetry
This Journey – Written June 2025 (Aged 50)
This career has been harder than it should have ever been, or needed to.
This life has been harder than I thought it would ever be.
I married her once, and then it went away.
Bumper Cars – Written May 2025 (Aged 50)
I start again.
But there is a pattern in our lives —
when the hopscotch is high
and the skipping has only just begun.
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.
The Chapters Upon My Back – Written Tuesday 27th May 2025 (Aged 50)
Life has told
a tale or two.
I feel now
much older than I ever have.
Relatable Sin – Written Tuesday 20th May 2025 (aged 50)
We have been broken
by not early on
finding a wife,
one that was a trick or two.
Creases and Folds – Written Monday 19th May 2025 (Aged 50)
Everything becomes old.
Time itself
has upon its being
creases and folds.
Sun Shines Down – Written May 2025 (Aged 50)
Woke up early,
out on the road,
sun shines
as I snake my way up the hills.
I Would Like To Belong – Written May 2025 (Aged 50)
I would like to belong.
I did not stay that long,
and now I feel like a journeyman
just going from place to place.
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.
The Boy Behind The Glasses. Poetry and Writing 