Half-remembered faces,
Some forgotten,
Lost at the bottom
Of his mind.
Some were graces
And left
Traces
Behind.
He fancied himself bereft
But his heart
was never cleft.
Although,a few do,
Its true,
Live on,in art.
I remember a Russian doll, by the fireplace.
I took it apart
But could trace
Therein no heart,
For ‘Twas only art.
With no start
Or conclusion.
‘Twas a mere confusion
Of toy
And boy.
The below first appeared here on 15th August 2015:
“The passage of time muddles the brain, I don’t recall your name.
Perhaps Marie or Melisa, no matter its all the same.
Though some would consider it shocking, it meant absolutely nothing,
You kept on your stockings,
I feared my neighbours knocking.
It signified everything and nothing,
A girl in suspenders and stockings”.
K Morris - Poet 