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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=578772" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Uncertainty Of Memory</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=578772" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">my childhood<br>yes <br>MY childhood</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=578772" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">as i am fixed<br>here<br>the line is dead</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=578772" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">oh for a diary<br>but no one had told me<br>and no one had said<br>then</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=578772" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">and all those days<br>kept from the ink of a pen<br>an itch not scratched<br>only shuffled faces<br>in a box<br>but do the words match? <br>and do the lives stitch? <br>together </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=578772" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">i am set<br>to this life<br>now<br>and those thoughts moved away<br>some time ago<br>from this fractured memory<br>frame by frame<br>inventing days to remember? </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=578772" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">oh for a diary<br>just a simple<br>cardboard box<br>full of MY days <br>a book for each year <br>but maybe it was just<br>so fucking dull </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=578772" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">i try to fill up those spaces<br>inside this solid warm sparking mass<br>of my thinking<br>teased into every corner<br>of those years <br>in this place where it all goes on<br>this well-used filing cabinet<br>and the lost details<br>of my childhood <br>yes<br>MY childhood</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=578772" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">i TRY to be there<br>i fail<br>to really be that boy<br>In my head<br>at four or five who knows? <br>the teachers hand<br>my mothers smile<br>my sisters face<br>the house</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=578772" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">that boy of seven i was<br>Elm Park Essex 1961<br>who was kicking balls<br>and raiding fridges<br>for something interesting<br>and two biscuits made me smile<br>every day<br>and of course<br>the lemonade<br>on Saturday</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=578772" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">and those times of <br>holding wooden guns<br>my father had made<br>lovingly carved<br>from the noise of his shed<br>HIS place<br>he said</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=578772" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">in a small bedroom<br>i moved<br>too cold in winter<br>ice inside the window<br>so downstairs<br>by the fire i sketched<br>other worlds</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=578772" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">on that white space<br>killing with a well sharpened pencil<br>before the uncertainty<br>of memory<br>before the correctness<br>of politics</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Tony+Sweeting">Tony Sweeting</a></strong></div>