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  • Annette Austin


Memory is a treasured tool

one I've come to rely on,

more and more

as time continues to stretch away

On school sports day

I hear my trainers,

pounding on the grass

panting, barely breathing,

feeling the warm glow of youth on my face

Memories come, before floating away

similar to clouds,

forming, then dispersing

changing their shape as they go

My first proper kiss

unaware of how to react,

lips met, fumbling hands

a heart pumping,

faster than my own

Sometimes, I fight with memory

ones I do not want or need

sticking in my head

go, run away,

get away, please

Sometimes memories are like shards of glass

glinting, appearing to be special,

thinking they were great once

they lose their shine over the years

I squeeze onto memories

as they start to fade,

falling over my feet

trying to chase them,

just to replay them once again.

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