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Yesterday
now most of it is gone
or going
the furniture of life, things
you have lived with
for half a century, faces, names
you know as well as your own
they must be there somewhere
if you could only cut through the fog
replay that unchained melody
the one that topped the hit parade
its refrain just outside the room now
a ghost with a voice like a golden bell
calling you from somewhere so close
almost out of hearing
and you strain to call it back
step out so bravely after it
tell the cab driver – follow that song
so sure you will overtake it
find a way back to where you used to live
meter still ticking as he turns to ask you again
© Johnmichael Simon
2014
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