Memories

 
 
    Memories, they weave a silken web in silence.
    We talk of times past in gently measured tones,
        sometimes bitter humor.
    We watch a bird circling in the distance,
        build lattice patterns in the clouds.
    Last year I spied a mole burrowing in
        ground obscured by early snow.
    Today I tend to think of you
        smiling as you did last night
    when you first saw me after parting.
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