If you look, at the end of the day
after words are spent,
and memories begin their journey.
And the wisp that was once a
brilliant, iridescent flame,
retires to a loft of curling
lemon verbena smoke...
You'll see that I will, as on the very
first day, search for the never
written words, the one's never learned.
The one's I've yet to invent,
the one's you'll make me see,
to celebrate the 'us' that we've become.
'Till occasion brings language with the
sound of you,
I will continue to amuse every candle
with your shadow...
and begin another memory.