MEMORY OF THE PAST

Memories of the tales, so beautiful and inviting as the lanes of my pipe dreams flash across her ends.
Some member listeners watch my expressions as a clear fact of my depressions, assuming the position of the antagonist.
Collusions derive a message in our argument of lessons learnt as that will to assume position, is the wish of every ear.
Couldnt even tell the last time I had such sweet tales, only in the days when log of woods on fire served as electricity complimenting the old tales.
Today is my modern age with this twenty-first century that only leaves me in the choice of no choice except the television.
O' days so green like wonderful expressions relief in one duty, which tells of detraction as only wish, as I only wish.
If only I could mention a hope of and if with chance, of assurance it would come through, I would wish that day to come and leave away, while listening to all the tales of time by the fire in our middle as it Crystals.
I myself might not understand then, but my ears relate to my mind a fix of connection to the characters in these tales as though I were the stories told. Am I?

This poem is about: 
Me

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