Misted Mutable Memories Poem by Andy Brookes

Bits and bobs some dross others gleaming
a bomb site of memory plugged in

fading shattered fragments
strange to remember the names not the faces.

demons sometimes angels maybe. who knows?
passages leading to a labyrinthine
sadly having no Ariadne to lead me
no the silken thread to guide past ghosts
recollections slip fluid into empty hands

struggling on the tip of the brain
knowing time will turn then into dust

no one will remember us I think,
except images of lost folk
in strange clothes and hair dos
for our ancestors to laugh and wonder at