The places I travel to in my
memory are distant in both time and space.
So familiar, and yet gone forever.
They are a part of me, the bark - were I a tree. They are the music, if I were a phonograph.
Over time, only friends find
their way there, waiting for me to once again remember them. I smile at seeing them, and it is always summer.
1 comment:
Nicely said!
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