The past is not so far away.

We are not so distant from the past as think
Though comfort comes in the concept of time
Creating a barrier between wrong-doing, and us
Simply forming new ways, becoming more socially inclined

To kindness and acceptance, and whilst this is certainly true
We should not taint the past only with what we wished we had not done
But explore the beauty in the parts we should remember
In fact, a rainy afternoon it is rather fun

To focus on the romantics forgotten through murder
Love and lust behind strategic advancements in Tudor Britain
Anne and Henry in a twisted tale of heartbreak and pain
Where love was the root, but the story tells of misconceptions in vain

Replacing the true tale as once might have existed, and
Forgetting two people once shared one heart
Regardless of title, two hands once did touch
And love that existed which was torn apart

We should not ignore the cobbles as we walk
Stained with rain from a hundred years prior
And cracks from the pressure of chimney sweepers plunder
And factory workers step, grass lands besides, houseless from fire

The doors that creak and look decrepit
But have felt a million palms pass through the frail frame
Felt anger, loss, happiness, in the slam of wood to wood
Yet no face, no cloth, no remnants remain

Only memoirs of the blossoms that continue to fall
Or a stain of mud from a welly, on a hallway wall
Scribble from a toddler in a place out of view
And knowledge in the books, of what we thought we once knew.