The dead don’t change

they follow us in dreams


demanding the same



You, so long gone

you seem to me,


a dream:


& yet I conjure crystal clear

an image of your young self,


I used to miss you

but now I find you




It’s taken long years

to buffer your blows


never anything solid

that stuck.


You were born on a breeze

lived high in azure sky


disappeared into a

morning mist


leaving us

with nothing.


(Listen here)

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