January 18, 2019
Photo by Stephen Borkowski
A Poem by Mark S. Peel
Old friends who can no longer stoop,
The best you can have in any close group,
Can recall the old games,
Not necessarily names
As chins, bellies and memories all droop.
They believe he who lies the most
Achieves the truth in the biggest boast:
Better to recast the times of youth
Even if false sounds better than truth
Else there’d be nothing left to toast.
So as false memories persist as lies,
Let it be said it’s no use to deceive the wise.
What happened way back when
Will be remembered time and again
As truth that no one really buys.