If I could have another day with you,
I’d say let’s have a drink, but then I fear
you’d keep on going after just a few,
obliterating all for one more beer.
I’d ask forgotten things I need to know,
then, curse it all, an accidental tear
would interfere with revelation’s flow —
I’d be no wiser than when you were here.
Illusionary imaging is deft
when honest recollection is unclear;
if hazy mystery is all that’s left,
embellished memories may persevere.
Perhaps the blessing is that I’m bereft
of bygone days far better left austere.