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I live in what I give away:

in photos, flowers, polished stones,

a book or ring, a porcelain trinket,

a figurine of which I say,

This oneís my favorite, but it means

much more to me for you to have it.


But also in the time I give,

to listen, try to understand

everything time takes:  the flower,

the photo of a relative,

the polish on the stone, a friend,

a pledge and ring that slips the finger.


And finally even how I live,

till Iím afraid to give away

what, for tomorrow, I should keep:

some memory of those who leave,

some token that recalls the way

to stop this dying in my sleep.


Michael T. Young



From Transcriptions of Daylight, Rattapallax
Press, © 2000; originally printed in The Lyric.
Reprinted by permission of the author.

Backgrounds by
Purple Woods

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