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  • It was only a few short summers between my mother asking,

    ‘how I was’ and her asking ‘who I was’.

    It was only the briefest of moments between telling a friend,

    ‘See you soon’ and bowing my head in a farewell.

    It seems only days between being a child and looking after one,

    Between laughing and shouting, ‘I’m old’ and being old.

    Surely the moon has only passed a few times since saying

    ‘tomorrow, I’m going to..’ and ‘yesterday, I meant to….’

    It has only been a few short, warm wind, summers since my mother asked me

    how I was.

    bobby stevenson 2016
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