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Memory by Don Campbell

Memory
Into my life a bird of remembrance has flown
And I recall glass breaking on that day
I had to wash dishes alone for the first time
I actually enjoyed soaking my hands in the soapy lake
Of soggy scraps and lemon yellow bubbles
But I guess I did too good a job of venting
My emotions madly massaged every plate
And one cup couldn’t take it slicing my thumb
In the hot cleansing water I couldn’t feel
Any physical pain I just pressed to stop
The strange bright red liquid from streaming
Over the seemingly ready for frying freshly cut digit
Now I have an eagle shaped scar that reminds me
Whenever I take a shower or go swimming
I have been on my own and I’m still here
I have persevered and found a new hand to hold

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