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I Donít Remember? ©

This poem does not represent my own feelings on the subject matter, but my attempt to wear the shoes of someone else.
(With their permission.) Oh, and a partial parody of a Thomas Hood poem.

Danny Reynolds
Dalton in Furness, England

I donít remember, I donít remember,
the house where I was born.
The window broken by the burglar,
on that fateful morn.
Nor, now can I remember,
my initial puzzlement,
which quickly changed to fear,
then anger, then resent.

I donít remember, I donít remember,
if I was fully aware,
of the hallway floorboards creaking,
caused by one who should not have been there.
And whether I had planned it,
in silence, nothing said,
as I reached for the pool cue,
which we kept beneath the bed.

I donít remember, I donít remember,
If I hit him once or twice.
Nor if the sound of wood on skull
could be described as nice.
And could we really have tied him up,
to stop him from escaping?
This vermin whoíd defiled our home,
with wounded head, now gaping.

I donít remember, I donít remember,
If we called the police straight away.
Or why weíd decide, before they arrived,
to make this bastard pay.
Two broken arms, caused by a fall?
ďWhilst trying to defend, sir!Ē
(So in the prison toilet block,
youíll find out who your friends are!)

I donít remember, I donít remember,
If we learn from past mistakes.
If ignorance can nullify the memoryís pains and aches.
If your conscience stops you repeating,
certain things you did back then?
Iím glad I donít remember,
so I could do it all over again.

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