Meandering it loses its path

The wee trickle smiles

To the badgers gaze

Succumbing to the warmth

Of a different sky

Wondering why it can’t

Reach the distant echoes

Of forgotten familiar names

It’s contentment in solitary

Tributaries of a silence

Designed to repair the fresh

Slices in the minds scars

Reminding the smile inside

Somewhere a voice of love

Lurks beyond the touch

Lost awaiting to be found

(C) Frank Mcgivney

Remember those who sometimes forget are not lost just on a different stream where intelligence and wit flourish but a tear caresses the smile for the echoes of voices we struggle to recall

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