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strayed

traces
have been noticed
by those who strayed behind
letters wrote –
reminders to the day
laurel spilling over
one more spring
is passed
petals almost bloomed
 to fade away

of time
I have no mem’ry
of the coming back to go –
roads I walked
and some I stayed
the night
curved against a highway
warmed against the dark
miles between
the falling down
to dream

. . .