A/N: For english we had to choose two lines from T.S. Eliot's poem 'The Wasteland' to write a piece of creative writing in keeping with the mood or tone if the poem and I'm pretty sure what I have written is okay (critical teachers suck). I'd love soem honest feedback on what i've written. Male persona and the underlined bit is the quote.

"You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember


I remember.

I remember the hours we used to spend, watching time pass us by, such times are gone now. You sit there beside me as we used to but there is no connection. You are lost to me.

We had journeyed through the morning noon and after of our lives together, sharing all our many troubles, but no more. Your vacant gaze settles upon my furrowed brows and I remember

A girl flies across my memory; she smiles and turns to me. Her laughter calls me closer. I get close enough to see dark green flecks in her stormy green eyes. There is a great sadness in those eyes, a pain no one else is allowed to see. These eyes haunt me now; watch me from the same distance. The pain remains, these older orbs stare vacantly from the same distance

Yes, I remember. Do you?

We are older now. You, a young woman, step down the stairs of the theatre towards me. Your light floral skirt flows softly around you. Those stormy green eyes still look as intently at me, laughter filling the distance. Something trivial is said and passers by glare and murmur at your light-hearted jests. They speak loudly to each other in obnoxious tones, thinking us deaf or more. Your eyes flicker, yet you smile and happily turn your own eyes back to me

Yes, I remember. Do you?

The same woman walks serenely down the aisle between rows of people, solemn spectators to a wondrous moment. The white dress swirls with her as she walks flowers in her soft hands. She walks to me and laughs quietly at my apprehension.

"I do."

"I do."

And she turns those smiling eyes to me with promises of forever as her father sits, drunk in the back of the church.

Yes, I remember. Do you?

Older again, wrinkles begin to crease your brow. Smile and frown lines around your lips and mouth. I have glasses now, old age you know. We sit upon the lawn, not speaking, simply remembering. Children, both ours and others, play around us, ignorant of our pain. The child, who would have made our third, is now buried beneath green grass by the church. You take my hand and we look at each other. Your stormy green to my brown.

Yes, I remember. Do you?

The girl

The woman

The wife

The lover

The mother

The friend

The companion


Yes, I remember.

You sit across from me. Age has added lines and scars and worries but I can still see those stormy green eyes. They are vacant, staring at me in confusion, no recognition. You cannot remember but I can. How can it be that you cannot? You, the dreamer, remembering each fantasy vividly can no longer remember your own existence, your past. After this long, cold journey of life am I to end it alone with you empty beside me? You are lost to me. Your once bright stormy green eyes now focus on me.




You know nothing. You see nothing. You remember nothing. I remember.

And I am alone