It's nothing personal
I'm sure it will come back to me
In a moment
Just who you are, and where we met
And when it was
Maybe ten cars ago
And fifteen homes, and twenty jobs.
And who was I then?
What life style did I favour?
And did we share a pad
A friendship
A marriage
Or an interest in Zen Buddhism?
Or was it when I vowed to change the world
Or ban the bomb
Or further back.
Were we together at school?
And if so - which?
I'm sure it will come back to me.
Don't cry!
It's really nothing personal.
There IS nothing personal
Any more.
by H.St.V.B.1973
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem