My man and I laughed out loud over coffee and Wendy Cope's poems this morning. I've had time and memory on my mind lately so I especially appreciated a lighthearted treatment of the subject in this one:
A Nursery Rhyme
as it might have been written
by T.S. Eliot
Because time will not run backwards
Because time will not run
In the last minute of the first hour
I saw the mouse ascend the ancient timepiece,
Claws whispering like wind in dry hyacinths.
The street lamp said,
'Remark the mouse that races towards the carpet.'
And the unstilled wheel still turning
-- Wendy Cope