Like clothes always the wrong size,

Now too small, now too large,

The ill-fitting present I cast aside

And the future, the gamble of clowns,

I firmly decline like gaudy circus attire;

The past is what I wear.

Like some wonderous, linen robe,

Impossible to tear, impossible to stain,

The best of my life is woven there.

Glad moments in every thread.

Incredible memories in every fold,

This, this I put on wherever I go.

Jerry Shonda