Memory Poem by Richard George

Then, I never loved you
But Memory does now;
A Muse, you see, creative
And I long for you too late
In shafts of golden light.

Nostalgia, in her Greek,
That aching to go back:
I need to laugh. Forget.
I rifle my lexicon:
'Lethargy'? 'Oblivion'?

But still your little cursor
Is blinking on my screen:
Memory has programmed you
Into me without delete,
As you were, obsolete.

And so like big black books
You load me down, leave me here
To toil for fifty years
Before I die, and it closes,
The distance between us.