It is very faint. The
Memory whirrs about
In my mind, like an
Old VHS tape. Cold
Static, drawing across
My faintest conceptions.
A grey recording of
A time past, old and
Gone. The bright screen
Under the dark sheets,
The cool August night.
That music. All of it
Faint, hewn in static,
Bleeding from decades
Of being replayed. Now
All I can do is struggle,
Struggle to remember.
Apr 17, 2019
Apr 17, 2019 at 9:25 PM UTC
It is very faint. The
Memory whirrs about
In my mind, like an
Old VHS tape. Cold
Static, drawing across
My faintest conceptions.
A grey recording of
A time past, old and
Gone. The bright screen
Under the dark sheets,
The cool August night.
That music. All of it
Faint, hewn in static,
Bleeding from decades
Of being replayed. Now
All I can do is struggle,
Struggle to remember.
© Lewis Hyden
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