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By Tammy CastlemanPublished about a month ago Updated about a month ago 1 min read

Every memory arrives

Creeping in, ghostly dances.

Leaving traces of bergamot

Incense of our lives.

Perhaps if there were second chances...

She dreamed her dream and then was gone;

Eclipsed by nothing, counting earth for naught.


About the Creator

Tammy Castleman

I have been an avid writer and photographer for most of my life. In terms of true passions, those are mine. What I lack for in memory, I make up for in recorded detail. We are what we leave behind.

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  • Shirley Belkabout a month ago

    lovely to remember others by their scent

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