Becoming forgetful or being forgetful, I cannot remember when it started, but I would like to believe I wasn't always like this. Why do I remember song lyrics from when I was a kid, and yet I cannot remember…

All that is good every last bit. 

  Down by the river, beyond the gate, a winding dirt path, chestnut trees, sunlight filters, lace-like shadows, rushing water, birds sing, Nothing asked, much said, Words spoken without human voice

                                 in a blue box trimmed with paper lace, a white ribbon, and a black rose, still and silent. the white ribbon put her arm around the black rose;…

                                 unfolding, petal by petal, being in the moment at hand… not rushing it to be more. the secret is not being in tomorrow by robbing today.