"Forget her," he said

"Like waves forget the
sand on the beach when
tide goes out. Like dew
drops forget moonlight
when a sunbeam makes
them blush in the morning."

But I am not as forgetful as water.
I am a tree standing tall in an orchard
with snow around my ankles and my limbs
shivering in shirtsleeves but I won't for a minute
forget the springtime. Or the sunshine and how she
danced through it underneath me. I will always remember
that summer we spent in fields together laughing at
dragonflies lighting on nettles and catching the
warm breeze in our hair. She was a fully
shaken Polaroid. A postcard.
A Memoir.