Scrapbooking

Some months ago, I discovered an ancient folder with about 200 poems in it. A lot of them dated back to university days; some dated back to an even earlier time. The poem titled Hawking was first drafted on 3 October 1989. It then lay fallow for about 17 years 4 months until I resurrected it two days ago, with a full set of edits. I felt nostalgic: this poem recalled for me a better time. And then I realised that some of the young people I know were born that year, and for some unaccountable reason, I felt happy.