RECOLLECTIONS

So why, as we get old, do we remember
Is it just that we have that bit more time
Other than living, having little else to do
And risking the recall of a distorted view
Even looking back it didn’t always rhyme
But for some of us, it’s already December

There are also things some try and forget
As it wasn’t all stuff worthy of celebration
A win, and that occasional feeling of pride
So long past, now a distant memory inside
As we wait on the platform at the station
Take a breath, there’s a bit more time yet

I know why the birds will follow the plough
For some, it is buying the final lottery ticket
A wealth of experience, so they might claim
But all the served daily meals taste the same
For those who were stuck on a sticky wicket
It is true that age shall not weary them now