Remembrance

wherein lies
the heart
of evocation

that strikes
the mirrored
hour’s toll

vague abstractions
courting fear

or starkness
of the bitter
cold

biting
with its sharp
precision

meteoric motes
of mind

reassemble consequence
once shed
in distant
folds of time

florid wafts
drift
through the ages
softer
than a maiden’s mien

torrid thoughts
slip
through the pages

faded laughter

aimless dreams

rage once pent
from whence forsaken

ageless
as a lover’s touch

brash and bold
our burdens
linger

longer than
the artist’s brush

Author: Max Meunier

Feminist. Ailurophile. Musician. Poet. Human.

1 thought on “Remembrance”

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