A certain quiet mystery captures my imagination,
I wish I might say it was a lovely mystique
brought the two of us together so long ago,
the words are reminders of river walks, and forests, and soft landings
inside the sweet elixir of our fantasy.
The you and me still exists when I round the corner of my life,
a silent rain waking me in the morning,
the drops falling soft on my
no storms just a spring shower,
the kind we might experience together in my car,
sitting in a forest waiting to find some words to say,
I love you and that is forever,
but the reminder would always remain,
no matter the sunlight in our heart.
Seems trivial to imagine such simple analogy,
when thinking of you and me,
but I do. When I read your letters
I cannot pretend the words did not come from your heart
I won’t put away the fresh response I had when holding you in my arms,
and then later the words, once you told me you loved them,
and then one day met your eyes with disdain.
Forever trying to figure out how our expressed and beautiful language
might turn a perpetual flame into this urgent need to last.
© Scott F Savage 3/2021