There is the same face with a different photo burn
Bottom-right of the printout, every year's turn.
To be stagnant is to be an axis,
About which this world does not rotate,
But changes with no negotiation.
Every attempt made lets it stay a little longer,
A little faded, a little smaller
As the cloudy memory you keep in a jar.
The sound against your ear comes in waves,
The pearls that they gave are
Locked around fair necks,
And the buried glass is a bit more clear,
But you always have to check.
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