Emer Lyons (11/05/1988 / Bandon, Co. Cork, Ireland.)
>>How one memory can make a life, one moment.
I heard your buckle rattle in the night; I hid myself under the duvet cover: Pretending not to spy.
Your feet are at my head, in “our” wooden crooked bunk beds.
I don’t even know your name but we’d a conversation earlier and I thought you were nice.
Twenty four hours is enough to know anyone in this kind of lifetime.
I smile at you in the morning in light peeking through the curtains.
I would flick the switch and light this moment up but others are asleep still.
To justify one moment doesn’t seem reason enough.
I don’t even know how long you’ll stay.
Maybe later I’ll ask.
But not now, I’m enjoying the enigma of it all.
It’s raining so I’ll probably be around the place for the day; I hope your plans are the same.
It’s maybe not this memory that made us, but I remember just the same.
Comments about this poem (One Memory. by Emer Lyons )
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