It’s not the past that I seek,
But a version of it.
A thinly cut slice of happiness,
From an overall muddled reality.
A wary awareness greets me as I write,
For no joys of today,
Are fastened to the restraining threads,
Of a time gone by,
Nor chained to dreams of a vivid tomorrow,
But alive in the fragile moment,
Full of possibilities,
And of creation,
Often more than a slice.