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A Time for Telling
by Tornado Day
.......a collection of remembrance
For some time, I've thought of the stories I carry. Some are based on memories
almost faded away, and others are filled with a type of wonder and magic.
In the telling, I've come to realize that not all of them are commonplace. Some are
far more than a heart can hold (and likely more than a telling can tell)...
But there's a sadness in knowing that the story will be gone when I am gone, or
when those I've told are no longer able or around to remember.
And so, I begin -
spare these hands
the writer's cramp - retracing
spare these eyes
the hurt that they have seen
spare this heart
an emptiness (for reasons I can't say)
that I might tell of autumn skies
and stars that got away