maybe i should visit you
in that frozen wasteland
where you've waited
all these years for
warmth and spring.

or maybe i should visit
our garden of flowers.
alone i'd lay down  
on the grass,
ignoring the flowers
that beckon brightly,
desperate to be
remembered.

i'd close my eyes to
feel the soft whispers
of wind on my cheek;
words winding their way
in-between the twisting
air to replicate what
you gently spoke
lying on the
gentle earth,
both eons and
mintues
ago.

      how are you doing?
      just maybe, could you stay?
      could you be my companion?

      can we stay here for life?
      or at least until
      tomorrow?

the steady calm of night would surely
coat the ground with its coolness.
but i am fast asleep. brought
under to only wonder
when it was
i lost my winter
coat.