Awakening

I wake slowly,
to the quiet
of a yet unused day;
the tangle of dreams
still etched
on my mind:
slices of the past
that my hands
want to hold onto,
so that I might savour
the feeling they brought.
Chaotic images of people
who once filled my world
with light.

Is it love that ignites
the cold embers of memory
to a cheering warmth,
when I surrender conscious thought
to slumber?
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