Do minds recall or just replace
Memories with a fiction we’d rather embrace
Are the people we knew all that they seem
Or are they figments of a rose-tinted dream
Standing on pedestals no-one can climb
Elevated there by the losses of time
Sometimes the idea means more than the fact
What you miss now may simply be that
Not what was real but what you now desire
A mirage of the mind of which you never tire

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