the forgetting

the forgetting

time has softly sorted through the memories
easily discarding a bit here and a little there
a past recalled distorted lost in these similes
ghosts dodge and flit in a moment of despair
sit in a simple silence searching for that gone
the ends of the fingers clutching and clinging
in a peace and violence at the tip of a tongue
a scent of perfume lingers with tears stinging
as in the dreaming night lost thoughts awaken
the voices whisper faces show seem to be alive
something at an edge of sight not yet forsaken
filling those empty spaces with a truth to arrive
the mist slowly clearing the dark fog has lifted
only faintly endearing of what was once gifted