finger tips coated in orange-cheeto dust
a mass of titian curls in a hat box
sepia-toned photographs
in black tattered albums
memories resting on uneven bookshelves
Love-defying gravity

a box of little debbie cakes hidden behind a red tin box
a homemade christmas card with frayed edges
a wood carved ornament – see the remnants of green paint flakes?
the paella dish shaped like a fish
another bottle of flat ginger ale.

she’s talking to the plants
enriched by his ashes
see the vines growing up the walls?
like their love, eternal.

fourteen stories above
fireworks wrapped in ous and awes
millions of stories below
hustling to and fro
but here -
only truth.
only love.

the images flash quickly
a subconscious slideshow
thank god it hasn’t dissipated with age
thank god she happened to me.

the white gloves
the large brimmed hat

she’s behind me now
resting her hand on my right shoulder
as I write these words.

I feel the weight of her hand
I close my eyes
and enjoy the breeze

generated by her
angel wings.

This entry was posted on Thursday, March 8th, 2007 at 2:52 am and is filed under My Swirld. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.