Time Passes

I've travelled some distance now. Left you behind somehow, nestling in the newspapers which wrapped the glasses. Time passes Memories in a box and stored in the loft with the duplicate bits and pieces we didn't want or need. No need. Time passes Sometimes the past nudges the present, but we ignore it; turn our backs. No relapse. Grasping second chances. No backward glances. Time passes We journey on, smiling, laughing, disregarding the occasional 'what if?', an aperitif to a future without repeated mistakes. As time passes we ditch the stuff that history is made of and pack only for the future; its perforation into the now not needed. Time has past. Let us toast what will be.