As I Remember

Men speak of phantom sensations where once were limbs

That severed are no more, but may prick or throb no less than

When they were; as dreams awaken distant pasts and place us 

In a time long gone

And long forgotten.

I do remember in your kitchen, sitting round, a conversation –

Ten thousand of them through the years, that knitted something

Of a family I belonged to. 

And often wonder whether, how, a heart can too have phantom parts

That seem to only echo within some severed, hollow chamber,

As though we were, still,

As I remember.


About A. S. Ellis

I am always learning. Always. And that is as it should be.
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