Jan 2014
I though I'd miss
the recollection of memory—
but now I find
that it slips through my fingers
like sand sitting under the
setting sun.
for years, you will stay
buried under these grains.
the recollection of memory—
but now I find
that it slips through my fingers
like sand sitting under the
setting sun.
for years, you will stay
buried under these grains.
Written on the first day of my first move. Victoria, BC.
