Sonnet

I’m copying down my memories.
Old visions are not all good ones.
The spring sunlight that warms my fingers
also falls across today’s empty bed.

Between the window’s outside and inside
a fragment of the world is suspended.
As I reach to touch it
the beautiful thing gallops away.

I keep gazing at everything.
My heart reluctantly whispers
but love hushes it.

Today returns;
yesterday is a blur;
I can’t imagine the shape of tomorrow.

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