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Practicing Poetess
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The past is inescapable,
No matter how far I go
Or how much I do
Or who I become.
I hear an old song
Or smell a certain scent
Or pass a certain spot
And it all flashes over again
Upon me- - The mood
And the setting and the emotions
Like a technicolor memory.
And I am shaken by the impact,
And return never quite as before to the present.
I can't forget- -
I can't forget.
There's often pain in remembering what was- -
Once.
I can't forget.
But if I could,
I wonder if I'd really want to.
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