the blossoms scattered there,
of petalled memory and words
which made my parent's world.
I pick them up with endless care,
and gather them to see,
how much of them that I can find,
which leads the way to me.
The perfumed shreds of time reveal,
a layered, drifting tale,
which drags behind my senses
and drapes my hours and days.
In picking up the petals,
which life had dropped and lost,
I put together images which
live within my Soul.
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