And It Was Good
I still remember you.
No matter how far I get,
halfway across the world or not;
whether or not it's been two whole years,
two long years where so very much has changed;
doesn't make a lick of difference.
Damn, I still remember us.
Just last week, on a day
when the rain fell on our group
as we examined relics of the past,
a little of my own shone through
as I described to a fellow
our first kiss.
He talked about how he liked rainy days,
because when they came around
he used to go to his girl
with flowers and watch movies,
and it was great.
This reminded me, gloriously,
of how, on a day much like that,
when the rain made anything possible
and you glowed;
how we went in my front yard to stand beneath it.
And how you hopped, skipped, and danced,
seemingly on the wet air,
laughing lightly as you did -
how, then, I simply had to have a kiss from you,
and it was magic.
Just a few days ago, I examined my life,
and how my parents are proud of me.
They've been for some time, and it's only grown now,
with my job and the distance.
In that, I thought of what my father sacrificed,
for my brothers and me,
part of the reason I've walked the path I have.
This reminded me, wistfully,
of a time when he knew I despaired,
over being suddenly bereft of you -
and he took me for a drive.
He let me vent, let me discuss you;
let me show him with words
some of the memories that to this day
dance behind my eyes.
He let me talk about how down I was,
first discovered my poetry;
half of it, at that time, about you.
He let me go on and on, and gave his advice,
and it was great.
You see, even where I am now,
even though it's been so long;
even though I've been over this for some time -
even though I swore I wouldn't do it again;
I still remember us.
I still feel connected.
It's infinitely different now,
and feels more like an old friend
with some special caveats
and very special memories,
than any yearning for us again.
You and I;
hard to describe.
It was short-lived, but hard-hitting;
like the raging tempest that passes
faster than breath, faster than thought -
awesome.
All I hope is one day, for something so wondrous
to exist once more, for each of us;
whoever it ends up being.
Don't mistake my intentions -
this isn't a letter of longing for a love, a life long lost.
It's just a letter.
A letter remembering what you may or may not,
what I do;
what has passed.
It was good.
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