Love letter # 210

Without knowingly planning it I found myself walking those streets again – our streets – as if drawn by a dislodged memory. I followed the beaten sidewalk to your apartment. Past the church, under the bridge, across the park. Yes – that park. I imagined you standing at your gate – like you used to. Hungry eyes. Lips parted. How corny we were.

I stood across the street – gazed at the window I once looked from – tried to recall the sound of your laughter. Or the way you looked when the lights went out. Things that stain the years the tincture of you.

As I walked away – leaving that place of ghostly dancing – I realised that I no longer needed homages. The particulars have faded to a beautiful haze – and you are now more like an angel, or an evocation. You are a source of light in my life. I may not wish upon your star – but I feel its warmth.

If you – like me – have extracted such treasures from our madness – then I am honoured beyond words.

As I was when you opened your door to me.





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