Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation.
stares out from my sister's yearbook:
soft eyes, brown hair, a steady look,
the way we'll always remember you,
fifty years after you
crashed and died.
to myself that you were beyond me,
that time would free
me from your grasp.
when I met you thirty years later,
blond haired, a skater,
not recognizing me,
to have barely known you twice,
like snow and ice
that melts when touched.
If only I could have touched
KE [177.18] (3.april.2020)