They're all young adults
in different parts of the country.
I don’t really wonder what they look like.
And yet these memories
somehow bring them back to me:
Elizabeth had brown solemn eyes;
Harry, still that cheeky grin?
Gabrielle and Jeremy, what are they like?
You start to notice things:
the wind in the trees,
the crunch of dry leaves,
the smell of a book,
the beautiful trim
on the edge of a table,
the first sip of wine.
There’s a touch of frost on the windowsill.
The moon perhaps is still in the sky.
In the distance a morning train rushes by.
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