Memory (echoes of dejá vu)
by merlyn on Apr.19, 2005, under Poetry
A whisper of soft words half-remembered;
The words themselves lost to the mists of time,
Their tone and meaning as clear as now.
A ghostly touch, of arms embracing…
Distant past as warm and comforting as tomorrow.
A memory of soft lips on the back of the neck,
A trick of time making the skin tingle as if they had just left.
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