The beginning
of memory.
Such simplicity,
for I was summer born.
Scents of sun warmed wool,
over wild flowered grass.
And now in myself
mercurial, natural.
Every sense
each impression,
Is both now and then.
I was
passive in its presence.
Enjoying laughter,
its sweet tones.
And it burnt
my language away.
For I did not
have the need of it,
where I was that day.
©️ Dai Fry 25th May 2020.