I was, I was not.

Still barely grasping that memories are not even real.

I recall my early years,

when I had not but one thought.

All my cares were spent on me.

I was, but I was not.

Free children run and jump and play,

greeting family with formality.

Memories of my own perception,

and not reality.

Games of marbles and games of house,

and games of telephone.

Nursery rhymes bent and twisted,

and taken gladly home.

Stories and rhymes over decades and years,

and memories guessed and told.

Within each holder it's twisted and bent,

a different anthology told. 

Reviews

[Boranus]

you was, you was not. you will be forgot. but if you were, then you are, somewhere in the dark. can you find the time to bow down before a god?

[Mari K]

How very true this is. The same event could be told differently by everyone involved, with some details changed and others simply invented. The human mind is a maze of wonder. What a great write that reflects a subject I have often thought about.