In seven years' time there will be
Not one cell in my body that will hold
The faintest, fleeting, first-hand memory
Of you. As the surviving cells grow old
And die, so will you cease to live in me.
Your worm should vanish from my broken pith.
And yet I fear that I shall not be free,
That you will turn from history to myth.
It will pass on from cell to newborn cell:
That golden age, when everything was good.
The streets were paved with oxygen, the food
Was plentiful and birdsong graced the air.
New cells will sculpt the myth: Never so well!
Never so well! Would that we were there!
So I was talking to Mr Grey -
"So is it really true that all the cells in the human body renew themselves after 7 years?"
Mr Grey - who has a degree in biology) - "Actually, no."
Also it reminded me of this.