Images and words come trailing memories,
remembering, revealing what once was,
reminding of connectedness, relationship;
restoring and yet mocking all that is.

Heart holds court in ever constant grieving,
watching with sad smile the passing by,
of times when you and I were not apart;
holds out the tissue hope for when I cry.

It’s not as if the looking back is conscious,
nor if the drift of days and long-gone years,
was something called or even ever wanted;
but still it comes, with all its joy and fears.

About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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