I ask my eyes to remember.
They have so much to tell.
I ask my memory to work with
Them, but it's stubborn,
Like an old pair of shoes
Letting in rocks and
Gravel.
We've walked enough.

I ask my lips to remember
Old juvenile softness,
My ears the sound of wind
Through rainforest foliage; a
Creek drizzling down a water-

Worn hillside, but all is so
Vague after the years between.
Some things resurface,
Then sink back into oblivion.
So much mind wasted on
Everyday trivialities.

I was there,
I tell myself when
Trying to recall the Italian song
Thrown between the brick walls
On either side of the narrow
Canal, as the gondola slid under
Yet another ancient bridge.
I could smell
The water. Filthy and beautiful.

I'm here,
I'll keep telling
Myself as always. Eyes
Resting on the
Ground Of Now,
Neck too sore to look
Back and focus.

Ears hearing her muttering
In sweet sleep, then opening
Her eyes to look into mine,
Touching my

(I'm here)

Face with feather fingers, then
Closing in on herself to
Sleep on, safe and warmed
By present love.

My eyes still see.
Ears still wallow in music.
My skin still

(I'm here)

Feels the touch of something
Wanting to touch it,
Touch it.

For now, I'll listen to
My shoes.