Recall
I think
Were we meant to conjure
As we repeat
Record, replay
With exactitude
When nature’s calls and cries
However similar, are not alike
Yet we do the same in memory
And curiously
To ‘repeat’ can still, or distort
Our selves
As one calls
To times, feelings
Even faded people’s part
While Time pulls its tides forth.
By J.W.H. Hobbs.

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