The Past Is Another Story
What if I could one day meet again
Those whom I’d once called friends;
What if I could converse with them
What is it I’d want to say?
And how, in return, would they answer me
How would we pass our day?
And would I recognise he and she
And would they still know me?
How would we part, go our separate ways
And would we ever cease to be?
How fraught with questions that scenario
For what has passed is now the past
And cannot be recovered
However much the thought does please
It’s Carpe Diem, the day to seize,
And yesterday has been and gone
Gone to live,
Or should that be to die?
In my own
My very personal