memory Memory, you are a sometimes-friend Showing me in bright white-hot flashes And vibrant colours that swirl and blend The pleasure, the rush of blood to the cheeks, the squeeze of a hand And then turning just as quickly to dust, to ashes, to sand Slipping through the fingers of the mind Leaving as unbidden as you came And yet all the same Sometimes I find That when I lie in the blackness with eyes squinched shut And try to summon you anew You are nowhere, nowhen, silent and dark I hear nothing but the murmur of my yearning heart
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