My Memory of It

My Memory of It

Then and now
and forty years in between the two
but I know I looked out this window
at this oak tree
I know it. I sat here in this room
and looked out this window
I am sure I would have done so
at least once while I was here
for in all that time of course
it would have been impossible not to
certainly it would have
remember this oak tree?
No. I do not.


2 thoughts on “My Memory of It

    • I had revisited my college library when I wrote this poem after not being in there for almost 40 years and the experience was unsettling. This poem describes one aspect of it, things that were there I did not remember. And the other part, even worse, things and people that should be there (as I saw it) and were not. Time does not stand still and sometimes the reminder is so abrupt it is painful.

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