The memory came as sure as night’s silence
between the hours
when sane people sleep
and the flush of dawn was yet to be considered.
Fleeting memory on the peripherals
the distinctive recall like a snuffed candle’s scent when no candle can be seen.
For what purpose does it still serve?
The sharp ache of it has long since faded
to a dull throb,
and then only when you try to clutch it
and face it.
scrutinize it once again.  
The memory mellows with a faint aftertaste of oak aged whiskey from a tumbler long dry in the depths of advancing echoes
from its footsteps
from its footsteps
from its footsteps