Impressions

So many impressions scribbled

The mind’s abilities are crippled

Pent up desires turn restive

The gates to freedom are selective

It’s hard to decipher the inner writings

They change with momentary feelings

Our book has never be read

The ink can’t keep up with all that’s said

It’s surprising we’re ever bored

So many experiences on the clipboard

They will all eventually be called 

To reenact from what’s recalled

It’s hard work to clean the slate

It takes us a step ahead of fate

When impressions are finally erased

Time becomes an ally, no more haste