Mid-Life by David Russell

David Russell

So much happened;
So much didn’t –
So nice to remember;
So painful to recall

Now nothing is all,
The power to recall
Is an anaesthetic –
Past strength
Is pathetic.

In the middle,
What’s kept still here
What was and is gone,
What never was –
All levelled.

All comes to ground, abrades,
That’s nice and clear,
For retroaction blends fact
With pretence,
Solid in sense – incense.

Old channels must live anew.


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