Your voice echoes
In all the leafy flowering parts
Of an asphalt city.
Your words swim
In my head as it grapples,
With problems much larger
Than me or any of us.
Your cascades of expression
Slide in the ridges of my brain ,
They feed my soul -
As a pollen laden bloom
Feeds butterflies and insects.

I do not need the proximity
Of either. The thought
Of you hovers so delicately
In me, a perpetual crystal
Catching light,
That those bright moments
Give me the will
To try again. To hope again.
Your memory is a means
To recall and renew myself.