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The Threads of Memory
What may have arrived in a whisper,
is lost in momentary lapse.
A clock plays a song to the listener,
then fades in memory's collapse.
Out of touch the ribbons unwind,
reminders become ghostly ashes.
Hiding deep and far from the mind,
floating just below surface flashes.
Sailing as driftwood on tide,
days unravel, they’re tangled in thread.
When your thoughts melt as they slide,
to lose meaning of words once said.