Body And Mind III.

Blustery November, and all I want
.                Is to find a quiet corner of this burnt out city
.                                               Where the ashes of my past whisper in the wind
Coating the street and alleys in a thin film of memory
That must be scraped back to see the stonework underneath.

.                                But for every brick and branch I recognise, a thousand nooks and
Crannies have appeared, breaking the lines of familiarity
.                                                Making a tattered mosaic of my memory;
.                The edges flutter in the gusts, as though any one might strip
.                                The whole sheet away, and leave me with a blank slate

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