Let those days go by.
Recollections need not
be scrutinized under
a microscope. They
will implode eventually,
spewing tiny fragments
of faded gray paper,
patterning the linoleum.
Your high school
scrapbook for instance,
which you planned
desperately to hold
on to but someone
said No so you didn’t.
Much wiser to toss away
each make-out session.
Each beach bonfire replete
with guitar and singing.
Each elegant tea dance.
All now obliterated.
Let those days go.
They were expendable.
Here you are now, old
but enduring. Savoring
the high gloss of silver
on the lip of the tall pitcher.
Spilling some mulled wine
on the linen tablecloth.
Can you not celebrate?