at season's end i
gather warm fuzzy fruit of the
memories i can't bare to lose and
trim out the bruised and ugly spots i don't care to preserve, then
simmer all of the savory moments adding sweetener where needed to
improve on actual events and
when i am finished reveling in yesteryear, or
the way i think those days are best remembered the
tidy jars with gingham trimmed labels are arranged in neat rows with
shiny copper lids, until the moment when
i retrieve these precious moments and
ingest their sweet savory goodness
once again

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