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The Hound of Memory
In the park, besides the puddles broken
afresh by new feet, I trace my name in the snow.
If only I could take it home; to cradle, to keep, to make it my own.
Three figures walk along the path:
Future leads
and Past tumbles behind,
and further...
afresh by new feet, I trace my name in the snow.
If only I could take it home; to cradle, to keep, to make it my own.
Three figures walk along the path:
Future leads
and Past tumbles behind,
and further...
