White Shirt

Hope, eclipsed this golden morning by old,
Aching wounds and survival

 

Apart from you. I am surrounded
by such wrinkled beauty

 

And my capacity to remember
to be at home with it
may be what saves me:

 

Pieces together becoming
a sweet and generous memorial

 

In my soul – your smells, your eyes, your smile.
 
Hope, wrapped
(intertwined really)
in the remarkable pleasure
of confiding
in a cherished friend

 

How I miss you.

 

Enjoying your unconditional presence
Softening patiently

Hope, this evening I recall it.