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Our faded love story



Let me tell you a story.

Personal story


On a crazy whim

We decided to get married

It was over 20 years ago

And we had few friends

We tied the knot

In a field

Amongst the long grasses

With the soft rain

And shifting images of smiles and beauty

Whether it actually happened that way

Is no longer important

As I am unable to distinguish memory

From fact

But that’s how I like to

Remember it.


She’s gone now

And I’m on my way out

And whether anyone

Remembers our story

Or cares enough to find out the truth

Is not up to me

As my days are fading

With the best behind me.


I suspect

Our beautiful

And dramatic tale

Will soon disappear

Lost to that great removalist,


As others continue on their own way.


Only the self

In the Now

Seems to matter.




More Poetry

Having worked in Aged Care, and getting older myself, memory is an intangible thing. Completely unreliable and left to interpretation. I often think that the best part of our lives are through Nostalgia and not really lived. 
What are your thoughts?

Have a good week. 
Something different next time. Some crazy satire on the way.


  1. My dear friend, yes you're old/older, as am I. But you're not dead yet, nor am I. Many things have started to feel better in my 50s (though that won't last). But as you wrote, all we have is this moment.
    Love you.

    1. It is scary getting older isn't it. But we're still going, as you say, not dead yet. Thank you Robyn. xo


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