Before & After Memories Are Celluloid Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

Starting with every childish caper
One day, sitting back in a rocking chair,
Skin & bones like crinkled crepe paper
We'll remember our lot livesshare.
Changing like caterpillars, amorphous
Catching toads and newts, those black tadpoles.
The carousel horses are painted red, white, and gold.
Attached to their shiny brass poles.
From blowing bubbles on holidays,
From climbing trees to that first true kiss,
We'll remember all our friends, our protégés.
Those dreamy days spent in lost remission.
Hauntingly, they'll come flooding back.
As the rocker leans back and forth
Doesn't matter that you're amnesiac:
It's been a good day; there are no mourners.
Sure, seesaws have a pivotal point.
After memories are celluloid.