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Stone walls old and soft edged, echo the chime
of distant and blurred and faded slow bells
tolling their slow tale, a tale that tells
of passing time and vanished time: lost time.

Blurring like endless days of summer, bells
endlessly toil and tell and toll their chime
pacing out their measure, laying down time
in serried beds, pressed pages, mounded tells.

Suspended in the amber of their chime
lost days hang forever in the slow bells
toiling and tolling their tale that tells
that all your days and dreams are lost in time.

We live forever in the chime that rings
never quite fading: stone memory sings.