Re-Winding Memories

Beeching has been at work in her brain.

Branch lines are closing. No train

of thought as tracks disappear

in a tangled undergrowth where,

tearful, she  loses hold of time.

"I must get back down the main line

before the wrong sort of memories

cause wheels to lose their grip.

I'm sliding back to nowhere fast.

Wasn’t I your mother once?"

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