Remembering

by Michael Keeling

I wish I could remember
where we lay,
‘neath a veil of trees,
hair ruffled
by the breeze.

I wish I could remember
the vapour trail moving
arrow straight in the sky,
musing us
to days gone by.

I wish I could remember
distant bells,
the clamour of rooks,
and you buried under
a mountain of books.

I wish I could remember
walks on the beach,
talks in the park;
how we sat huddled
till long after dark.

I wish I could remember
music we played,
the lingering night
and falling asleep
in dawn’s shrouded light.

But the sorrows I’ve caused,
the expressions of pain
and the blood that I’ve let.
These are the things
I wish I could forget.

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