{"id":4344,"date":"2025-11-06T22:09:14","date_gmt":"2025-11-06T20:09:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/axis-v.com\/?p=4344"},"modified":"2026-06-27T17:22:23","modified_gmt":"2026-06-27T14:22:23","slug":"sepia-of-memory","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/axis-v.com\/en\/sepia-of-memory\/","title":{"rendered":"Sepia of Memory"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

A word is but a touch. This poem is the trace of a touch
that vanishes… and yet lingers in the air.<\/em>

The windowpanes whispered with a scar –
something still whispers in the silence there,
where the saffron, withered into an echo,
rests in an old tome.

This is a flower. The dry twitching of a dream,
that slid down from memory,
like a silver sound from lips.
A name forgotten. The loss – as if it never were,
only the fragility of old warmth.

A broken stem – a sign of fading.
Sepia in the heart, a gray dawn.
The page creaks – not from pain,
but from time, which weathered the voice.

The silk of thoughts rustles – who is she?
Whose warmth is in those petals?
Whose fingers touched the leaf,
and why is there this void within me?

I remember – and flee as a shadow.
In the dried flower – my own shadow.
It whispers: “you, too, were me…”
…and I no longer know which of us has vanished.

When the last memory turns to dust,
the body disappears in the whisper of decay.
Only the flower remained… and even that – not quite:
for even it –
was blown away
by the eternal
wind
from
the tomes.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

A word is but a touch. This poem is the trace of a touchthat vanishes… and yet lingers in the air. The windowpanes whispered with a scar –something still whispers in the silence there,where the saffron, withered into an echo,rests in an old tome. This is a flower. The dry twitching of a dream,that slid […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[55],"tags":[117,120],"zbirnyk":[],"class_list":["post-4344","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry","tag-loss","tag-memory"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nSepia of Memory - A Poem on the Pressed Flower<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"A poem on a dried flower in an old book - the trace that lingers when the name is forgotten, the shadow that whispers you too were me.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/axis-v.com\/en\/sepia-of-memory\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Sepia of Memory\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"A poem on a dried flower in an old book - 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