The Life of Memories, and Memories of Life

I can see the past more clearly now
See how it’s fitted, or ought to have been.

Classical piano, tears, rebellion;
Schoolyard bullies, kisses, bravado.

Now: this feeling in the pit of of my stomach
At how untouchable it is…

If I’m too careful, I see the jumping and frolicking falling away,
My face hardening: less surprised and more serious by the day.

Oh, It’s just songs and dreams, but so much is
Frozen firm there, in the ancient ice.


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