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Drops of youth

Do you remember those days
when spring sprung from the snow
crevise and anything was possible?

Laughter lines lay dormant 
and only its sound left traces
of smiles in the air – carried on wings
to warm the coldest of hearts

We’d be running. Running or skipping 
and never felt the ache, save the one for the boy two doors down
whose years outnumbered mine own, leaving
him to see nothing but petals on a
pleated skirt
and puppy dog eyes. 

I breathe you in, like yesterday 

Perfume strained from flowers, yes…

I like the smell of all that

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Memories

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Time just taken
and granted a tint of perception – yours or mine or anybody else.
A connection.
Fine thread. Weaved in flesh
and thought and heart and
hate – dressed in flowers or fear or
heavy ache.
Just there, in the windows
behind the looking glass
Perfume – so sweet
you want to eat them
Lie awake at night and you scream them.
See them.
Yours to sew and live again
your secret stash
that we all keep.

Keepsake

Keep that piece of me in your drawer

with a trinket of our time.

Bottled laughter and a thistle

sleeping

where socks lie

in privacy; never seeing light until

stood upon

Discretely walking over the smiles

and the prickles

of past lives….

To pastures, new.

Ghosts.

I stand with
a coffee in hand,
Stealing its warmth.

It’s still cold in these parts
and I can see us,
Her and I.

We’re laughing at me
through the glass.

I can see you too.

You have scuffed shoes
and a Superman soul.             

And I?

I am a stranger
with the saddest of eyes
and a skipping rope.

You wave
whilst your feet
dance in puddles.

I remember you and
your electricity eyes
and I laugh.

But, she?

She keeps her hands
safe at her sides,
Just as I did.

She looks up
at the window
and sees herself.

Holding the coffee cup,
Stealing its warmth.

And we smile.