They go like water
over stone;
the things you want
to forget
and the things you don't

And then they're gone
but for a passing babble:
the sound of moments
disappearing down the stream
of your complacent conciousness,
whispering in places they don't
belong
saying
this was real, this you felt
you learning over and over
the painful fact
this was real, this you felt
your mind may forget
but your heart will never.