21st Day of Poetry


[Crowds, Hyde Park, London, May 1944; via]

Do They Even Remember?
by Kalyiel

You passed through all those people
As if you were smoke and they were
Cracked mirrors, grinning predatorily
In the polluted sunlight.
— Do they even remember? Do they remember you?

You were like a twist of fate,
A coincidence, one of those things
That open heavy doors and then disappear
And now they can’t even recall your face.
— Do they even remember? Do they remember you?

When you were there, you reminded
Them of broken resolutions,
Of stories too alive to be true;
They shared you, but not your meaning.
— Do they even remember? Do they remember you?

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