Adelle Benade Poet ABC

Fragment

And if my feet don't find their way,
if my hands
can no longer grasp what they want,
if my ears cannot tell apart
the songs on the favourite album
and my mind forgets that it used to focus—
may there always be
in the shell of me
the memory of
the inner constellations we explored
together, the breathlessness
of that journey, the drawing
of breath at the same time,
in the same fleeting place.

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