Melt

A fraying hem, this need to stop a spiral of decaying time
Buttercups told silent fairytales to youth before its knowing
Now the wood expands beneath a step into a memory
What the pantry could divulge…
And all these nooks, these dormant happenings
Could the fuller pale be when a voice is found beneath the debris of a childhood?
It wasn’t hers, but well she knew
The vinyl keeps its song

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