If Only I Could Remember Poem by Mark Heathcote

If only I could remember
and amnesia didn't fog up my greying pate.
Last, I recall my childhood days.
Was of neighbouring rambling red roses
And a swarm of harlequin black ladybirds
and admiral butterflies laying their eggs
and old ladies on Sundays polishing doorsteps

All I can recall are all the flavours
Of the sunrise from winter to fall
or from April to March
with the end of the wilting daffodil
and the waking of the busy honeybee
the furore of the startled house sparrows
flying from hedge to emerald-clipped hedge

And the bubbling of the black tarmac roads
and the weight of my father's heavy backhand
for falling out of line or just being a child
If only I could once again recollect.
Being last in the bath wrapped in a wet towel
The sound of laughter begins to howl.
As I put on my underwear, no dignity allowed.

If I reminisce, I can nearly remember
being tightly tucked into old army blankets
the smell of Benson & Hedges Gold Cigarettes
as the tooth fairy silently left her infrequent kiss
with a hint of fleeting bliss, if only
I could remember; I'd tell you much more than even this.
But amnesia has silenced even my poetic lips.