Ahakista
High tide against the wall,
Of this tranquil garden.
So many names to read,
As the evening sun sinks,
Across a mountainous skyline.
So silent as we stand and whisper,
In a haven of peace,
While night is falling all around.
Remembering the pain of a Sunday morning,
With bodies like rain,
Falling.
To be mourned at this remembrance ground.
distances
just pretend the spaces
are filled with cheerful conversations
and loving dialogue
no need to read another
telephone directory
the distance between us
is only the matter of a few
simple words
memory
the gentleness
and quietness
of memories
like no other
exquisite
the passion
of heartbeats
as we linger
memory
that unique place
the elusive moments
gather
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