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Feb 2012
Traces of memories we leave in verse,
Which capture moments in time, that
Become invisible, once they are gone.

Traces of what we are and do and can do,
In our life from the day we are born, until
We die, the sum of our hopes and fears.

Traces are the sticky air between, hope
Fulfilled and the fears conquered, while
Life flows slowly towards an endless sea.
Ian Beckett
Written by
Ian Beckett  Dublin and Vienna
(Dublin and Vienna)   
828
   Ian Beckett
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