the past comes creeping
towards me like a dense
London fog on Leman
where rippers prowled;
time filtered born memories
distorted like stretch marks
slouch around my feet as if
trousers too long had been
worn with large cuffs to
catch what little truth had
sifted through my mind,
reluctantly searching for
the gold that had been
buried so long ago in a
desperate effort to escape
repercussions of the truth.
31Jan16
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