I dare not ask that you remember me
When you cannot even remember who built Stonehenge,
Or how the Great Pyramids' stones were laid.
I cannot ask that you remember my song
When you cannot name the hymn that was sung
as Lincoln's body lay in state,
When you cannot recall the eagle's cry
as she mourned the loss of her young.
When you have forgotten the corner
Where your grandfather first courted his wife-to-be,
I cannot hope for you to recall that crossroads
where we met
Before taking different paths.
Yet if you can remember the laughter
Of your great, great grandchildren,
Memory will begin to return,
And life will awaken.