it is miles away,
with the memories I left behind,
I can hear the delicate roar
of winds,
sea shells sputtering,
time overlapped.
When the tide drifts,
I am drawn back
into the last sunrise.
The distance is calling.
There were places I let go,
strangers with stories,
shadows sullen on street corners,
fruit that dripped permanent nectar,
overdrawn trees ebbing under skies.
I met a bird man
in the lost city,
he told me never to miss
what I have lost,
and to only
cherish what I have found.
His voice decays in my mind,
with the oceans,
and the cutting winds.
In my memory I am there.
It is only a dream,
the placid landscape
disappears.
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