It's been years now.
So long that one questions memory.
Did that actually happen?
Was it a dream of something that never was?
Perhaps as memory fades we make up the better tale.
All too soon dismissing the real.
After all, there is no evidence.
It was lost by the hands of a mad man.
Torn up and thrown in the air.
Floating away like so many yellow, ruled butterfly's.
But it was real -
That and the message it carried.
Plying at a stubborn mind to remember.
Until something brakes.
The damn of emotion overflows.
And the memory is oh so very sweet.
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