and still your memory will not be silent;
it creeps behind me in moments of solitude,
teasing from my mind those recollections
I had long since put to slumber.
I need not hold your picture to see you
for there are many mirrors that catch my eye,
smiling, cutting quickly into the crowds,
there for a moment and then gone.
Those busy city streets lisp their Spanish tones
at every corner or café, of every memory;
even in the stillness of my peaceful room,
you edge your way forward in my thoughts.
And still your memory will not be silent.
© Annie McLean 18.02.01
