MEMORY’S PERSONA
Walking along the veining river,
of Sentiment and Nostalgia,
I saw a little girl,
Lost and all alone.
I did not ask her who she was,
or why she stood so still.
I did not care if she was frightened,
Or if she had a home.
She was just another past,
Frozen into consciousness,
She served me no immediate purpose.
I just reminisced, then continued to roam.
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