Memory’s Fade

Hay días en que uno se mira al espejo y no se reconoce en él

 

Who is this

A memory staring at me.

A sketch etched in glass.

A shimmer of who I am now.

My time is not done.

My future isn’t drawn with blade and remorse.

I can’t be the person I once was

I can’t live in the past, even in good moments.

I shall be a collision of the past, present, and future.

Also known as

Me.

 

[Poem #35.  Image by jesuscm via Flickr and a Creative Commons License.]

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