This Time

There is this time
A re-play of memory –
A memory that comes from
Another place – memory
Washing over me like rain
From a time that is not
Of me – but Before me
So many lifetimes ago.
These re-collections
Found in sepia just
Before they leave me,
Manifest in quiet jamboree
Of pine fire and lilac
Opens to overlay upon
This View inside me,
As if the memory still resides
With the person from whence
It came – I am just a vessel
For this Moment passing
Through me like wind gently
Embraces a leaf, together,
Falling to the stream below
Floats gently bound for oceans
From so long ago.
© K. James Ribble

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