A long time ago,
I thought about you every day.
The memories were fresh,
kind of like a new book
on my reading pile next to the bed.
Over the course of years,
new chapters of new books
pushed your memories deeper
into the bookshelf of knowledge and experience.
I haven't forgotten or lost love for you.
Your memories are part of my prized collection,
the leather-bound hardback
I occasionally read while sipping whiskey
after a hard year on this Earth.