Memories at Forty

After forty years, who can still remember everything from the past?

The joys of childhood, the melancholy of youth, the hard work of adulthood!

In the blink of an eye, the years of youth are gone. Before you know it, silver strands appear!

If I could set those hazy memories down on paper, perhaps they would be the finest recollections of the first half of my life.

A sheet of paper, a brush, and a cup of tea; one day, one year, one life!

I've got stories. What about your drink?