he was your horizon; you were his fireplace. you couldn’t know the winter spent would melt away in grace — the spice and smoke, they linger still, the snow has turned to cotton — and still you reach, reflexively, for gone but not forgotten
A quibble with a common metaphor...
... in many things.
To tell the story of a life Takes many pages, many words; To tell the story of a love Takes every bit as long The you I saw in summer fields Beneath an endless weightless sky The you I felt in tenderness The softness of your skin, a sigh For now, when I remember you …
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She walked out on these docks with him About a life ago In warm and windy memories That only she will know The boy who was her everything Her fading Summer light Until the darkness took him Into everlasting Night
The memory I have of you Is one that’s ever-dimming now; As other lands and other climes Take over my recall – But still, I see a fading bridge, A perfect sort of summer day, Just past the edge of words and rhymes: I almost See it all
Strangely off.
About communication and relationships.
Time, they say, heals wounds. I haven’t found that to be so — For through lost fields of yesterday My heart will ever go Love, I hear, takes time. Well, time’s the one thing that I lack – Yet to lost fields of yesterday My heart keeps going back I let it all just wander …
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