IMAGES II
for kimberly Ann Johnson
footprints leading to drawings of me,
forgotten yesterdays and might have beens
do you remember my name?
You never read my poems
now you read words to the woods
with snow falling at your door
do you remember my name?
You seem to look for everything
that may lead somewhere else, a new set of eyes
blurred images of what our story could have been,
do you remember my name?
Photos are all that are left of you
scattered in the folders of history
where there is no space for communion,
do you remember my name?
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