It’s curious that the one thing that age destroys is memory.

We can reminisce and regale our grandchildren to the point of delight

of delicious and noble deeds done but the temptation

to over embellish, or add a line in for cosmic effect then

perhaps awkwardly becomes the main focus of the story.

As we get older, instead of being sure of the whole story,

We begin to miss things out, they disappear from view, hidden,

shrouded by  Time and alienated by a sense of the perverse.

We no longer recognise what we have been,