Are there plants, are there trees
that can still hear?
have you been around for 100 years?
The park beckons
There are no eyes
but still is it possible they recognize?
My grandmother, My aunt, a certain vibe
tangible in me, of the past, my tribe?
I hope as I walk, they silently talk
of piano sounds from the parlor sill
and laughs and fragrances of my family still
lingering
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