Memory Go there to my favourite place And see if I have left, Like some dropped flower A memory there for you. I cannot say, what word, or Smile, slipped through The fingers of my heart And fell to the grass. And there, unbruised Fold up some knowledge Like petals gathered together And safely closed. The grass is faded now: Green crushed to brown, But there, where I have been Perhaps the flower remains. Cathleen Benson |