My mum can remember
September 1952
As though it were yesterday
But struggle as she might
Can’t recollect last night
Memories used to linger
But life is lived only in the now
As anything previous disappears somehow
It’s sad when new pictures can’t be stored
When each fresh experience is deleted.
No longer can we afford
To take our next day for granted
That is why I write a diary
So when I forget my life
There will remain my story.