A figment of memory
Or shrill burning ember
Of fragmented summer
Untended.
Shrapnel well felt;
Distilled from events
And deposited when
Spent
Whilst staggering back
From the brink’s banks
That lack anything
Thankless.
Wired and tiring of whys;
Ready to compromise
And about to try
The tested
When gently, it’s there,
Without warning or fanfare,
And you cannot tear yourself
Away.
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