Ian H. T. Mackenzie
Memory like water
Surging round our ears
Brings its echoes, softer
Than the sound of laughter—
Laughter of some strange forgotten years.
······
Someone gazing in a stream sees reflections hurry by;
Someone underneath a tree searching all its greenery;
Someone looking at a face holds a flying memory.
······
Broken images that pass
Through a twisted looking-glass;
Things we do and things we say
Ever fluttering away.
······
Disconnected things we see
In the brightness of the day:
Just a flower growing there
In the happiness of air.
97
