Why Bother

Early writings haunt me
So many years ago were they
When I was just a child
And for hobby, did I pen

Yet they, always with me
Never could I destroy
I keep as a reminder
With the others I have made

Perhaps maybe extend them
Rewrite, I am unsure
Remember do I, their meanings
Or from them, spent too much time away

I question, should I edit
Or leave them as they were
I don't like to share until completion
But of those I have not touched

So long ago do I remember
Yet now, different do they feel
Can I put them away
Or keep reference of the past

I wonder if I'll realize
What heart I wrote them for
The exactness of their meanings
And what was going through my mind

Serve a purpose, as old memory
Exist, so they remain
Why bother to look at the past
I guess I'm built that way