recordings of loved ones

with rare exception

do they recede-

counting backward from the last fresh moment of contact,

finally settling somewhere in the middle ground of the mind’s great topography

until doubt takes root

as to whether they in any way resembled the person i now recall

or exist in my mind merely as a construct

of  memories with fading accuracy. 

but then a long-lost familiar sound, place, or smell restores them

if only fleetingly


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