Memories, like an angel’s share can’t be touched.
They are both real still the same.
As is quiet darkness and all those things
that should have been. Love is
a cradled burst of brilliance followed by
gravity sending sadness into the cosmos.
Moments ago he felt her breath
the very first time all over again.
Even now his skin holds traces
of her touch. A lifetime. . .an instant.
Aromas and regrets
escaping measures of time and context.
R. M. Dolin, 2015