They are sand and wisp,
these voices and faces from
long ago. Why can I not forget
them? Because they have been
permanently pasted to the screen.
They used to matter so much.
How I read to please them,
watched to please them, learned
so they would never ask
a question without an answer.
Now I see they are only grains
of sand, wisps of air,
and I am reminded of Midsummer
lines, fools and mortals.
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