Lost

A poem written in memory and to remember.

 Lost

Make some memories is the turn of phrase

But once you’re gone, they’re none but pain

Eternal as long as our minds uphold

But ephemeral and perishing as we grow cold

These thoughts fleeting and withering with time,

And yet they resurrect like an Easter morning

With a face indistinct, blurred by the effects of time

Stained and worn like the pages of a book well-loved

What was Lost can always be found

Someone gone can be seen once more–

— if only with time

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