Do you ever wonder if the past loves of your life,
remember you as clearly and fondly as you
remember them. Or even recall you at all?
Is my memory that much better than theirs?
Or do I just think too **** much in general.

People meet, quickly attract,
fall in lust, or even love,
for a moment, or two,
entwine their lives,
their naked bodies,
perhaps their hearts and souls,
confess deep secrets,
then soon they part,
going their separate ways,

Like Ships that pass,
and briefly collide in the night,
then merely, casually sail away.
A perhaps damaged hull , more than
chipped paint, left blowing in the wind,
Corrosive sea water seeps in, rust begins,
we look for someone to do a repair,
Some body work, a little new paint,
and off we sail again.

And yet no collision is without illusions
of it's "what might have beens",
indelible inevitable, later recollection,
Second guessing fermenting distraction.

So back to the question,
Do any of our past loves remember us
as fondly as we remember them?
Or indeed remember us at all?

In the prevailing final analysis,
it's all long gone and done,
Why should we even care?
Too much thought can be,
a nagging unwanted distraction.
What is over and done,
can never be again.

So give it no more thought,
than one of last years
fine summer days,
While you are basking,
in the warm soothing,
sunshine of this day, today.