Time ceases to exist
in the memories,
It runs through
the passage
of the garden of our mind,
It flows through the
river of dreams
and comes back,
But in the memories
it never passes,
It is always still
and silent,
in the memories,
It runs through
the passage
of the garden of our mind,
It flows through the
river of dreams
and comes back,
But in the memories
it never passes,
It is always still
and silent,
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