A Past So Present
Still we hold a colour at our watchful eye,
a voice in our attentive ear.
We escape nothing from our mystifying past.
Perhaps we sing a song, old or new,
feel dark or light against a so unsheltered face.
In ears a voice remains.
In an eye resides the face of a loved one.
Colour, voice, songs will never leave one's life,
though one stands before that loved one's grave.
(Aug 2022)
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