Past is past, and if one <br />remembers what one meant <br />to do and never did, is <br />not to have thought to do <br />enough? Like that gather- <br />ing of one each I <br />planned, to gather one <br />of each kind of clover, <br />daisy, paintbrush that <br />grew in that field <br />the cabin stood in and <br />study them one afternoon <br />before they wilted. Past <br />is past. I salute <br />that various field. <br /> <br /> <br />Submitted by Larry Bole<br /><br />James Marcus Schuyler<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/salute/
