Among the counting of forevers,
years, photographs
Reminders

It is love that only remembers
Anyways

Beyond the damage
Or the seasons,
The body or disdain
The distance
or the longing
The heart, or the age

It is love that only remembers,
Anyways

But is that, this really love?

The mind that says “yes”

For perhaps it is only a semblance

Of a face that never fades.

But in the end
Like in the beginning

It is love that only remembers
Anyways

And that is all there truly is.

______________

 

 ~ R.M. Engelhardt