A loose-leaf flies from the dark Inn's memory book!
I see your poem-like
that long signature
pasted on the solitary
And when it disappears slowly
beyond the mountains
a teardrop on the grass
about to evaporates?
Do you remember me
with a pile of books,
once I lodged here
for a short period and
One dark rainy day
I left for my unending journey
borrowing your mackintosh
you're shocked and not even asked my name
and I too forgot to ask your name?
[We all have our time machines.
Some take us back, they're called memories.
Some take us forward, they're called dreams.]- Jeremy Irons
for my friend Paddy Martin and if I know your domicile definitely I enclose this in a Christmas card!
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