The landscape of my Memory

You are an inkblot in the corner of my mind on a sunny summer day in July. I see you there in your chair sitting so peacefully that I could almost reach out and touch you. But the stillness tells me you are only a photograph, a memory once spent in real time. You, my beloved are a longing that lives behind these closed eyes and fills my heart with a stirring and a passion for adventure.

I know you face, I have sat in your company and traced the lines of your words as you drank your beer.

You are the soft sigh on a cold morning leaving mist in the frosty air.

I remember the sound of your laughter and how it filled the depths of me with peaceful reassurance of your ever living presence in my life.

You live within the still, quiet moments that penetrate reality with a stab of regret.

For moments lost to time.

You are with me outside of time, in a place of my own making where I keep you in a ballroom dedicated to your story. The walls awash with your adventures, the artifacts selectively placed and the dancers are those I have known my whole life. You walk onto the scene with all the fondness I can summon. It is an easy task but overflows too readily, my fondness, threatening to drown us all.

We walk together this gallery, while the dancers blissfully manage around us to enliven the scene with their ghostly presence. From one still frame to the next, we recount the moments together and our memories merge into one while the scenes change in front of us playing out our words like a dinner theatre.

And in your absence I will walk these halls and put on grand balls in celebration of you. In memory of us and our connection, of our fondness exaltation, I keep the best of you tucked safely in my heart. All the beauty I remember, your hugs, your moods, your laughter, all play out on the record of my thoughts. And we are together there.

Though the moments may separate us through distance, our bond knows no Earthly bounds and I will forever see you in the landscape of my memory.