you hope that one last word will flow toward the future,

one step ahead of us, and all those days too short

for memory to lose its presence in the abyss of tomorrow,

one breath behind us and all those nights too short

so memory can gain its presence in the fullness of today,

somewhere between clasped hands and our gazes still as one,

nowhere as close as at the verge of those ascending whispers,

fathomed through lengths shared not by any measure of distance

between the flame and candle light, between the shadow and the sight,

between those two who could not see beyond the broken trust

of memory rekindling with the hunting dusk, seemingly unbeknownst

to the one mirrored in the other’s eyes, like strangers in disguise,

still distant.

–

(inspired by the sounds of ‘The memory of strangers’, by Yonder Dale)

–

Continue reading:

• ‘A day, one day’ – a sonnet about two lone regrets
• ‘Antisonnet 2’ – a love story, too humanly sad
• ‘(Anti)sonnets’ – return to the full collection