There’s what we remember we remember
and there’s what we forget;
then there’s what we remember
that we’ve forgotten;
and there’s what we’ve forgotten
that we used to remember;
and there’s what we’ve forgotten
that we’ve forgotten.
There’s a poem there somewhere
now I’ve got that far.
Dammit, I’ll go for a walk
now the daffodils are out.
LOL. Nice to see you in smiling mood, Mikey. Warm regards, Gina.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The devil has an interesting mind. At least, in his own mind.