Memory, sweet memory,

That dwells within the heart of me,

Why is it that the things I see

Are not the things that used to be.


Did I walk those wild wood ways

Of make believe and childhood plays

That once upon a time portrays?

Did I really live those days?


The faces that I used to know,

The places where I used to go,

Now like the tide ebb to and fro,

Was it ever really so?


Memory, sweet memory,

Why do I doubt your constancy?

Is it that my dreams and me

Live life as we would have it be?





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John Coopey

Sat 28th Jan 2012 09:38

Neat and disciplined, MC. Excellent vehicle for the subject matter - a gentle questioning of nostalgia.
I must asy, though, I prefer to take my nostalgia, like brandy, neat.

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M.C. Newberry

Fri 27th Jan 2012 23:07

Thanks Neil. Your time taken to comment is appreciated. I take note of what you say, but whenever I speak that third stanza back to myself the words of the third line drop into place (with or without commas!) and fit into the rhythm as spoken. An amended line as follows fits the rhythm..."Are like the tidal ebb and flow" - but I'll stay "as is" because it doesn't quite suit my "then and now" purpose.

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Neil Fawcett

Fri 27th Jan 2012 19:03

Lovely. I really like the mournful tone. I stumbled on line 3 of the third stanza maybe 'ebb and flow' ? Well done with the rhyme scheme.

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