We all look for something to remember,
Something to remember him by,
Something for her memory of the moment,
Something that will stay with you forever.
How ironic then that the 21st century person is impelled,
forced, offered no alternative, but to take life at a rapidity,
that can only find a rival in the fastest Lamborguinis.
How disgusted I feel when I sit here,
staring at my keyboard when I’ve realised, a pen is not fast enough.
When it is what satisfied writers, poets, playwrights, for millenia.
I have/had/am having a great time,
so why the mild discomfort,
the slight pain in my side…
People always leave,
Or they don’t even show up.
Peyton was/is/will always be right.