The loop of memory, worn out in places. The thin strands we clutch at, trying to recall everything about a person long gone, kaleidoscope stuttering. Sleep can be a sharpener of the finer details, tuning the colour back into the frame, restoring the rhythm. I heard your message, clearer than ever. Nine years have gone by too fast.


On the grass in between,

I saw your face;

Felt the sun

Bathing green,

Black stone wall

To place a hand on and lean

It was in a name,

The words on my mind,

Your voice and smile

From nine

Years before


Winding down

In tear-filled eyes

The message was clear


Closer in time assigned

Through sleep

You cried, happy and well

Strange the details

Dreams can recall



Amber R Walker, Hull, Creative Writer, Bookmaker, Lover of art

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