Memories
T Tom Billsborough
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Candle-light and its whispers of shadows,
Smoke is raising its halos
And the tallow flows
Into the hollow below.
The droplets are falling like seconds of time
Down the once smooth candle sides.
And the rondeaux of memory now rekindle
In melodious silence echoes of music,
As we continue evolving
New formats preserving
Our conceptions of Time.
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