A scar is like a memory,
(the old man said
as she dressed his arm,)
a fading reminder of the
body’s journey,
a historical
roadmap to be consulted in
idle moments,
unveiling highways
and byways long forgot, welt by
fading welt, as
a breath against a
window pane reveals a blemish
for a fleeting
second and is gone.
John H Davies
31sr XII 2010
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