A Wayward Thought
A Wayward thought assailed me:
I know this place of yore.
The range, the chair, the window:
I've seen them all before.
Perhaps I dreamt of such a place,
Forgotten until now?
There is no way of telling:
If I did, I'll never know.
Perhaps I lived another life,
Unknown until some potent thing
Disturbed a knowledge, parcelled up,
Unravelling the string?
(Can I be sure? Does Time connect
Each moment to the next?
Such wayward thoughts confuse me
And leave me feeling vexed).
Perhaps this is the place I sat
Before I went outside
And coming back it's still the same,
The place where I reside?
'Tis so, I deem. The answer's clear!
I recognise that book I left
Sitting on the shelf!
Margery Clute (1824-76)
4 years ago