now inside
i have come to be
a part of you
found my place
between retrospect
and dream
where i will remain
silent
long after
believed forgotten
as scars
are the memory of skin
you'll carry me
with you
then one day
recall cummings
while busy with your flowers
and find me
hidden there
among lilacs
and young pears
hear my voice
again
and know
i loved








Becky















Then again, this computer sucks, unlike this poem that I am bookmarking.























110 old applause
