can your recall their names those people you called lifelong friends can you recall their face their voice the warmness of their touch oh it’s not a crime if you can’t but it’s a reminder you will be forgotten
december 2000 it was a rather strange part of a bike tour a mandatory viewing of uncle ho where we in a single file walked solemnly around his glass enclosed preserved body soldiers assured that there would be no photos or talking it seemed obvious that his true memorial was not within those walls but outside in the laugher of the school children who never had experienced war they had moved on from the past that day made me realize that we all frequently view the dead whether or not we want to admit to it it might be an old friend or a loved one or perhaps just a moment in time you know that special memory that we must view over and over again a viewing that keeps us bound to yesterday and unable to move on to the rest of life’s tour
one life to a book collections of short stories all first editions once a book has been removed just a few are remembered most are forgotten their spaces are soon refilled with newer copies dusty historical books the only remnants of souls
