An autumn breeze came
blowing in across my thoughts
Lingered there, ruffled my hair as
I continued to walk my walk.

Ask me how I feel.
No don’t, for I may yet tell.

The knowing hurts
the not knowing
…even more.

It’s the living years
you see.
Oh, yes those living years.
The ones we feel the most
because we keep their tears
for souvenirs
On days like these
as memory fades
a breeze arrives gently
to remind.


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