Were-dings!
Words afford us the luxury of resuscitating the unspoken and occasionally, the unspeakable
Sunday, June 14, 2020
Old Echoes, New Echoes
Memories passed
From flowing present
Into comfortably etched history;
A thin veneer of time
Inching closer to oblivion.
But old echoes flickered still
In summer's silent bloom
A frenzy of green, blue and maroon,
A hushed ritual of sameness.
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