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I remember...

Elisabeth Flett

I remember...

I remember the curve of your face
the taste of you
and the way you smiled differently after dark.

I remember the way you ran fingers through hair
ran ideas past me
ran away from that wild dog one time on holiday in Portugal because it wanted to steal your
ice cream

I remember what it was like to remember you fully
rather than in fits and in starts

a real remembering rather than one patched together
from photographs and two-year-old memories.

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