A Scrapbook - Poem by Gert Strydom
If I put my soul down in a scrapbook
with old photographs of how life used to be,
you will not find me
among the past
that is dead
like it ought to be.
Far too many dreams
were hollow and were followed
by war and loves lost
with a price and cost
and did not lead
but the here and now
is the place where I am.
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