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do I need a reminder
of places I’ve wandered
above a blue canyon or a babbling stream
would I barter permission
though fated in passing
to remind me of wonder
the color of dreams

what good would it do me
to garner a ticket
for a ship left from port
such a long time ago
to sail on a journey
beyond every sunset
to touch on the memory
of pleasures I’ve known

were once souvenirs
beholding to treasure
of moments twice breathed
into life – into truth
would I be any richer
with a picture of heaven
than the memory of wings
beating soft on the roof

the book of my seasons
sits low on the mantle
pressed by my soul
into beauty I’ve touched
near as a lifetime –
the echo of always
knows no remembrance
would compare then to love

. . .