Hazy and utterly imperfect
I still see your amazing face
But cannot recall your name
So many details have escaped me
Become just disjointed pictures
Jumping from frame to frame

Looking back more often now
Is it something about getting older?
Treasuring such moments
Like an old movie rerun
In that grainy black n white
Like a regressive hypnosis

Memories often have a quality
Unreal and sort of beyond the veil
Difficult to determine between
Whether real or just wishful thinking
Ethereal like some whispy gossamer
Or an insidious repeating dream

Pictures of a lifetime
A shifting paradigm


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