Sonder

A spry smile fleeting across a face

Well-known to time, summoning to mind

A past that set that face ablaze

And others beside, perhaps that

Of his companion, perhaps the

Memory only awakes for him.

 

A quiet word from she

Breaks his reverie

And draws him back towards

Some muted present thoughts

Leaving me, maybe as I should,

To see the varnish, not the wood.

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