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In The  Distant Fog Of  Dreams

*memory can have its tricks
tie it to music and it becomes amplified......

the song brought me
back to a small town
peopled with familiar faces

I found there
those breathing and alive, no longer dead
trees, streets, houses, neighborhoods...
all of their intimate details sharply outlined
animated and illuminated by a bold sun
nothing like the one I'd seen before

it left me haunted wanting more

this song altered everything in its path
like the wide sweep of a magician's arm
the music's swath was the end of a magic trick
I closed my eyes tightly as I listened quick
and saw with pleasure the final big prestige

the music did its trick with ease

spreading like melting butter before me
my little golden town
warmed in the sparkling sun
everyone alive and shining
no problems apparent to me or to anyone
the air magically kissed with a sort of excitement
a fragrant electricity
I felt the sting of the sweetest pang of sensitivity
welling out from the center of me

when, abruptly the song ended
as the black needle caught in the groove
the growling horizon darkened
while billowing clouds overtook the mood
the little town rolled in its carpets
a strong wind swept through
I saw the earth shudder and move
and the streets pulled themselves in too
soon my little town emptied itself of
everyone and everything

no more trees or streets, no houses or neighborhoods

the magic simply ceased
there wasn't even an echo
not even a place for an echoing wood
to remind me of what had been what had stood
the memory now only exists for me
in the distant fog of a dream

only when I hear a certain song
do I think I might remember
and then I somehow I manage
to forget it all again
and every year a little more goes away.

Copyright August 31 2016 written at 7:53am PST.
Meloo/Melissa A. Howells Straight from Her Tilt-a-World.

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