Our fading love story

Personal story

On a crazy whim

We decided to get married

It was over 20 years ago

And we had few friends

We did it

In a field

Amongst the long grasses

With the soft rain

And shifting images of smiles and beauty

Whether it actually happened that way

Is no longer important

As I am unable to distinguish memory

From fact

But that’s how I like to

Remember it.

She’s gone now

And I’m on my way out

And whether anyone

Remembers our story

Or cares enough to find out the truth

Is not up to me

As my days are fading

With the best behind me.

I suspect

Our beautiful

And dramatic tale

Will soon disappear

Lost to that great removalist,

Time

As others continue on their own way.

Only the self

In the Now

Seems to matter.

21.1.20

Having worked in Aged Care, and getting older myself, memory is an intangible thing. Completely unreliable and left to interpretation. I often think that the best part of our lives are through Nostalgia and not really lived.

What are your thoughts?