Recall. End of Line.

A repetition of thoughts should not
Be put forward to the same masses
Who listen with virgin ears although
Midway you realise the actions are the same.

Is it that you both forgot
It like the keys or glasses
And yet you both know
Like it is some time passing game.

We really can’t be to sure
Of what we say and what we do
Because the memory relies on what
You can fix to that moment.

It needs a line, a lure
That reels in the clue
Which, with a bit of luck
Leaps like a dog at a scent.

We instinctively flinch away;
To immerse in the past
Is to take a step backwards
But to ignorant is just as bad.

These memories have their own say
Of when your heart was beating fast
And the times when you applaud
The events in life that made you glad.