The sound of you

moving down the path

towards me;

the cluttering of foot on stone,

makes me feel

(What do I feel?)

sad, happy,

afraid, warm.

 

I don’t have all of you,

just your steps

on that day

as memory–

just those steps,

the familiar click,

on a warm day

in a garden

far away.

 

Just those steps

that resonate and

call to me

at moments (from moments).

 

I cannot stop

or control

those steps,

those whimsical steps,

that brought

the sound of you.

 

They are echoes from

far away,

from so near,

from things gone

that cannot return

except when

I hear the sound of you again.

 

2-5-2010