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I dredged the silt of memory |
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Days passed into history |
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And found that under scrutiny |
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Most are best left mystery |
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Selections of past incidents |
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For reviewing in the present tense |
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Can be done in ways which will omit |
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Mistakes of heart you've paid for since |
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If life's just a Linotype lodged in your head |
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Each day's an edition of things done and said |
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And if love me nots are all that's expressed |
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Edit the flower and re-ink the press |
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Day one we kissed in verdant spates |
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Day three I had her slinging plates |
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Days four through eight for peace I'd wait |
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But would these , too, be deleted dates |
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Months later when by chance we met |
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The plates I'd managed to forget |
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But a quick right hook sealed the bet |
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That she could not forgive me yet |
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If life's just a Linotype lodged in your head |
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Each day's an edition of things done and said |
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And if love me nots are all that's expressed |
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Recycle the paper and question the quest |
