She languishes there among my memories
making fleeting and unexpected appearances;
cupid's arrows still flying true
to my heart stone;
before I can look to see
she is gone again,
mixing in perfectly among other opaque
things which live too inside my mind.
She would lay sometimes in full view
on her Cleopatra Sofa
almost it seemed
reachable
but no;
my extended mental hand
would reach
grasping only air
and she is gone again-
I'm sure after feasting
on that perfect cantaloupe
of my adoring glances.
She remains most times perfectly still
for all memory is perfectly still
and that is its curse-she never ages
in my mind over the many years since
I saw her last;
while I have.
The tragic irony here is
I have moved on and she remains
living there pristine
in that Memory World which I provide,
my gift to her.
Perhaps actually seeing her
would ruin things for she and I.
So I will keep her in her perfect world;
it is the least I can do
for my Old Perfect Love
and hope too, that I
inhabit a similar place
in her mind.
Lonnie Hicks
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/memory-love/
