Of course travelling to yesterday
Is always only an imagined journey,
There are no tickets to take you there.
But without a Wellsian flickershow,
We still pace time’s other arrow.
At fiftyish now, what might
I put in a time capsule, a stoppered note,
Or a cheery easter egg hidden away,
To travel forwards down the path,
And surprise a me at seventy-five?
At first I am quite stumped.
Don’t think I’ll want to wallow in sentiment,
Or slump in a nostalgia of best before.
A family man might know where his
Highest hopes would lie, but not I.
So what would I say, to me?
I am at a sudden loss.
What if I don’t remember much?
What if I no longer care?
What if the days have not gone well?
Then I consider – here if anywhere,
I must surely know what might
Raise a reluctant smile,
After all, there’s a lifetime in common –
Or at least, we have had so far.