Memory Tries to be Kind

by revbillcook

Memory tries to be kind,

softening the hard edges of the past,

adding color to dull things,

letting the trace of pain recede.

Then something intrudes;

 

the scent of cut grass or

perhaps of dry wood

and  I return

to things no longer desired:

 

your name

sitting on the tip of my tongue,

regret

filling my mouth like smoke.

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