I’m searching for the source of this molten moonlight
And my memory is leaking like a bucket in the slaughterhouse
Like a blue and white tin-jug of unpasteurised milk.
Is that reflection, reflecting-back at me?
Is it really, really, really me.
My brain is somehow now a greyish crater.
All the edges blur, falling in
… Here is my molten moonlight come flooding back to me
So bright, I can longer see.
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So very true for so many aged people.
Thank you for your comment, Pushmaotee.