Poem: Deja Vu, by Tessa B. Dick

Deja Vu

 

A single touch, a word dropped carelessly,

recalls a future memory.  When all

that never happened reoccurs, the scent

of smoking sandalwood, the taste of pink

champagne, the tingle on the tongue, the touch

so warm, so willing to protect, the night

so filled with every passion, thrill and ache

when memory believes it happened once,

what stand could virtue make against this love,

already lived, but yet to be enjoyed?

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