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The scent of the purple butterfly bush
and the clean fresh air
The sound of the sea
Does it for me

A walk down the road
Rough may it be
Getting nearer the beach
And nearer the sea

To think once I lived there
Amazing it be
I’m sad that I left there
I’m missing the sea!

It did it for me!
I used to live in Cornwall, sorry I left , it was heave on earth!
Golden, iridescent light
Where, on occasion, one just might
Come upon a Fairy Boy
Who sweeps thee off thy feet.... enjoy
Thy moment when thee both take wing
To kiss Aurora skies and sing......

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.
A short flight of fancy after enjoying dear Vienna Bombardieri's lovely work: "Aurora skies"
They pass like phantoms in the shade
Their faces lost in mist
Voices dimmed to strings of time
That memory resists,
Features hover through the mind
Though details in-succinct
And threads of past performances
Occur but Indistinct.
I could have passed him in the street
But never caught his name
**** ghost of time's  a misery
Consumes me so... in shame.

Old friends walk in brotherhood
Through ancient tracts of time,
Though pained familiarity
Failing to define,
I almost caught our catch cry
In that old familiar song,
Some haunting shades of yesteryear
But....guess I got it wrong.
And then there were the stories
Which didn't quite add up
Like whiskey soured to water
Slipped in your favorite cup.

But come the next Reunion
I'll saddle up to go
Spend the dollars travelling
Attempt to make a show.
I'll hail the fellas loudly
And pound them on the back
Though all the while quite frantic
Thinking, "is it Joe or Jack?"
It's a product of the vintage,
A cursed sign of times
When you know he's struggling just as hard
Cos he can't remember mine!

M&Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
After 60 years of time and uncommunication...a Reunion of the Old Boys of ****** Agricultural College, Class of 65
Cheers Dadda DDA
Rawness hanging in the air
Leads to specters of despair,
Pain, offline, ingested now
Impaired within Atomic cloud.
Fragile, prehistoric skin
Engrossed this weary world, within.

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
Encapsulation of Irinia's tragic poem "This Wonder."
the rawness of things suspended in the air
an invisible hand pushes the hours through us into the compost and delight of memory
I don't have words for tomorrow, only your name today and warm tears.  I was born into a dead language so
I have this detector for the silence of windows, it sneaks in my lungs
pain is offline, the dark swallows itself
no wonder last night I dreamt a girl in a blue kimono
-you are my hiroshima, I breath like a prehistoric fish-
she was smiling to something only she could see.
love, this prehistoric wonder,
a fragile skin of this weary world
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