New boxes old letters
New beginnings old old endings
The table all three tables actually
Are covered in the old stuff
Sorted into piles year by year
There will of course be
Some misplaced works
Some misconstrued emotions
I will read your poem again
Where you fear for your future
As you drink your red red wine
I will see as if I didn't already know
How prolific I became
From the year we parted in two-thousand-and-five
The year before I met Kate in two-thousand-and-six
The tray of crystal goblets with glasses for the water
Finish off the scene a treat
They give it a sobriety
Worth it then to take a photograph of The Years
Rather though for posterity than for nostalgia's sake
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