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Nothing is Lost
by Noel Coward

Deep in our subconscious,
we are told, lie all our memories,
lie all the notes of all the music
we have ever heard,
and all the phrases
those we loved have spoken,
sorrows and losses
time has since consoled,
family jokes,
outmoded anecdotes,
each sentimental souvenir
and token, everything seen,
experienced, each word
addressed to us in infancy,
before we could even know
or understand the implications
of our wonderland.
There they all are,
the legendary lies,
the birthday treats,
the sights, the sounds, the tears,
forgotten debris
of forgotten years
waiting to be recalled,
waiting to rise before our world
dissolves before our eyes,
waiting for some small,
intimate reminder,
a word, a tune,
a known familiar scent,
an echo from the past when,
innocent,
we looked upon the present
with delight and doubted not
the future would be kinder,
and never knew the loneliness
of night.

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