Meet You There

Meet you there, in those moments,

when hours and minutes dissolve

into the echoes of the vast chambers of the infinite.

A kiss, an embrace, a joke, a smile,

a truth, a lie, a glint in your whiskey eyes,

a silvery kind word,

the comforting squeeze of your hand in mine—

all crystallized in amber, and destined to linger

in the corridors of my remembrance.

I stood there, stand there, and will stand there again, with you,

whenever the ache of missing you takes hold—a promise.

I assure you.

Lest I forget.

Meet you there for the first time again

(and on all our days thereafter) on that hushed afternoon, July 23rd,

and on the following day,

atop the Ibsen stairs,

whereby the creamy white lilacs and their milky scent,

you were seated with your hands clasped in prayer,

waiting for me there...

at the wrong location.

How I searched for and found you.

Love, meet me there,

for the last time again, at the train station in the heat of August 27th,

fulfilling a promise to farewell

and bidding only love and peace.

And you stopped to look back and winked.

And I departed before your train left the station.

Meet you there, somewhere,

in the chapters of an unwritten future.

In the realm of probable maybe.

On the line, perhaps, one distant day.

When you call. Or I do.

Just to say hi or nothing at all.

Who knows? We'll see.

Lest we forget.

And should I ever, my dearest,

forgive me.