The pantomime and
the pantograph,
that time we drew
the picture of a laugh

oh memory
spare me
from the folly
of remembering.

I called unclean
and the bell rang,
but the birds still sang
purely for the joy of it.

We can retrace those steps
like pages in a book we read,
we read again and indeed we
seed again to blossom when
the season beckons.