Memories of the Morrow
Our doings by night and day,
Are recollections on the morrow.
Though we've neatly tucked away,
They emerge, bringing joy or sorrow.
To retain them in our store,
Would require considerable skill.
Albeit we may try to ignore,
We review each vivid particular, still.
Could we suppose them as asleep,
They would become, as one, blind.
But from our psyche they creep,
Doting that we won't mind.
So be vigilant in your affairs,
Their memories oft bring sadness.
Conveying to you inordinate cares,
For your discretionary madness.
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