I wrote this poem on Ficlets awhile back.
I have been here before
I have been here before.
I know that quiet look, those murmuring hands
that touch upon this and that, never fully answering
the question that has yet to be asked.
You were mine once. I recognize your walk,
the turn of your head just so.
Your eyes draw the hooks of my memory
and make me catch my breath.
You may not remember me now,
but someday soon your heart will recognize mine
and the flood of memories will wash over you
as it does for me now.
Time is a restless lover, impatient for novelty.
He longs to open the door and move into the next room.
But memory is patient. The years are kind to her:
her beauty stays intact, ageless.
Your beauty is the same for me, removed from time.
The classic lines of your face stir my memory
and the musical quality of your voice
makes my blood sing whenever you say my name.
There’s so little we know of living to think we know
all we need to know about life.
But I know this: I was here once
and my life meant everything because you were in it.
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