by C. S. E. Cooney
memories
are finite
have a half-
life, gather
dust
with disuse
*
grasp one
it brightens, also
thins
rough edges worn
details crumble
*
distrust
what remains
pale treasures
smudged prints of
the past
*
but follow
follow their trail
back and back, until–
eureka
***
for gene
4/18/19
I love you too. I loved your card to me. And I loved your post about Gene. Thank you for being so present this week. You are so very near to me, and so very very dear.
❤
Pingback: Black Gate » Articles » And the Bright Star Falls Behind: On Gene Wolfe