PAST

You were just a page in some history book of mine.
I tore you out, I screwed you up and threw you in the bin.
A past representing nothing.
We never were anything.
That was quite some time ago,
Only I never emptied the thing.

Then one day I saw you again,
All crumpled up. Kind of worse for wear.
Did I really forget to throw you away,
Or did a part of me still want you there?

The ruined piece of paper in my hands.
The messed up thoughts of what could have been.
What if, but if, if only; oh well.
You never were one to know what I'd mean.

For a moment I was that close to yesterday,
But something inside me started to say:
History is just that.
The past has gone.
You can never go back.
You may only go on.

7 May 2002