You must think of me sometimes. I can not believe that I have been erased, wiped clean along with the pain and memories. There must be song fragments that still hold me in their sweet chords, lyrics that take you back to when we were one. Or do you you turn off the radio, preferring silence to those feelings that whirl and whip like wind spun waves.
You came again into my dreams and you leaned in close and whispered "I love you" into my ear. Bending your gentle head you listened as I cupped my hand around my mouth and repeated back to you those same three words. Then a moment of consciousness invaded that sleep filled realm and all at once I was stung with guilt, as I remembered my waking life and all of the years that had passed since I was yours and those words still belonged to you.
She stands with her head tilted back and her eyes full of wonder. Watching as a swirl of jackdaws whirl up into the empty sky. The breeze lifts her hair and places it back down again, gentle on her shoulders. "It looks like someone has shaken a brush and splattered the heavens with drops of black ink" he says. "I think that maybe they are trying to write poetry up there " says she.
Sometimes you need to throw open the windows so that the cool breeze can rush in and clear out the stagnant air. Doors will need to be wedged open too, so that they don't bang and clatter shut as the wind whips through the old house. It is important that the air must circulate. And as the dusts rises and forgotten things are blown this way and that, don't try to regain order. The time for that is when the dust has settled and both your house and lungs are full of tomorrows breath.