Torn about the idea of recording everything I do in my life or just letting my memories perish naturally.
And even if I did record absolutely everything who would it really matter to?
There is a beauty to impermanence.
Fresh from a bath, primrose path, you left your clothes in a pile.
Naked and wet, with a smile a bit offset, you’re already down the hallway a mile.
With a shriek or a shrill and just for the thrill, you dip and dive and dart.
Catch and release, your fun will not cease, until I pull you close to my heart.