how cruel a thing the passage of time;
affecting this heart with its gross paradigm
those who once laid anchors deep into my soul
seem to have departed swiftly, leaving a hole

friends, coworkers; even my last lover
all now passed, and henceforth i discover
the lonely languish that it is to be
so deeply tender to all that i see

once i read a book, it called this dés vu
and now i name this poem after it to
an awareness that all moments will turn to memory
yet another emotional accessory