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<br><br> <center> On the porch
A dry leaf scrapes.

<center>You have no memory of that day.</center>

<center>And I am somewhere in between
<center>Now,
<center>And the day we gathered leaves.

<center>I feel I have aged,

<center>Perhaps inside,
<center>And what joins us now is vague—

<center>Is it stone floors,
<center>Dry leaves…

<center>Or the bitter years it took to realize,
<center>You have no memory of that day.</center>

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