Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

 

rummaging through my desk
for a lost invoice
I find instead
an old note from her

the familiar hand
the playful tone
the smiley
and the word "love"

love

I hold this scrap
this remnant of what is no more
and fall inward
into cobwebbed memory
and for just a moment
I can see her hazel eyes -
the nape of her neck -
the mole on the slope of her right breast...
I can hear her laugh
I can smell her hair
I can taste her lips
and feel the warmth of her body
wrapped around mine in sleep

mercifully
the moment passes
the vision fades
and I return to now
but instead of discarding
this useless crumb
I place it back into the vault
into the secret shrine
of the bottom drawer
before I resume
rendering
unto Caesar...

 

Forgotten love?....not really. Well done Sasha

lost - but not forgotten. Never forgotten.

thanks, ed - appreciate the review.

so much power
released by the reading
nourishment of memory

a beautiful yet sad recollection
to be savored at times, and stored away at times
but never simply forgotten

Holy Relics never lose their beauty... their strength... importance to those who believe...

Thank you for sharing your secret shrine.

thanks, all, for your responses - the lady passed several years ago, but she still lives in my mind (judih, she's the subject of the poem I sent you for your blog....)

Love is very beautiful and tricky
Like fire - burning and formless. What remains is clear
Love

How did I miss this until now? Amazing. And so true.

We all hold onto letters and items that remind us of those we’ve loved. We’ll always love them. Beautifully written.

Loved it