Collection of Recollections, Part II

Maybe one day we'll meet again,

talking about

why we refuse to remember

and

what we forget to remember.

Your eyes would be

warmer, wiser, but

tougher to the unfamiliars.

And I would be carrying something:

a laptop bag, a grocery bag,

or perhaps even my child.

I would be easier to swallow,

a less solid version of

something you used to have,

someone you used to know.

We would greet each other

kindly,

doing a once forgotten dance

a smile, a hug, and a onceover.

Two reunited souls,

seeing each other again —
at long last!
But we'd both know,
there'd never be greater distance,
than time long past.

— Salute to my Almost