I’m busy forgetting what you’re bent on remembering,
or maybe I have our respective hobbies backwards.
No effort spent regretting what brought the end of the beginning.
Why not let things be, appreciate what vibe life is sending?
One or more than one of us has deviated off task here.
I’m busy forgetting what you’re bent on remembering.
The years have barely changed me, while you find most
trends becoming.
I’ll choose this pastoral retreat, you visit teaming streets,
cultural Meccas
No effort spent repenting for what brought the end’s beginning.
I’ve seen many drop from the manic city pace,
townspeople resembling
clambering ants or worker bees. Give me meadows, seeds,
soil, tractors.
Peace. I’m busy forgetting, while you’re bent on remembering.
We can’t just make do. You want a string of upgrades
labelled assembly
required. Fault me for my simple ways, a few slipped harsh words.
No effort too small, reviewing who wrote the end of the beginning.
Didn’t you prefer more plain talk, fewer games, less disassembly?
Who knew the tension between city ways and country life
could wreck us?
I’m busy forgetting what you’re bent on remembering.
No effort spent regretting what brought the end of the beginning.
