Note: To be read as Anapestic Tetrameter –
On occasional ambles down memory lane,
Precious moments of pleasure our thoughts can assail
Bringing comfort to hearts that are suffering pain,
And a smile to a face that is grim, without fail.
Many languishing souls are reluctant to dream
Of the days and the places they wandered afore,
Apprehensive past spectres to meet, it would seem,
Yet they know not that none there shall be to abhor.
Every moment of life from the present to pass
Is imbued with an aspect of who that we are,
So it ill-behoves any oneself to declasse,
For to be who we are is much better by far.