Your Memory

March 22, 2008
I sit on the oak porch, gazing into the night,
the snowflakes falling ever so slight.
Every white crystal, a memory, fall in front of me,
giving me vision despite the darkness.

I grinned, snowflakes slipping from my eyes,
as the sepia memories of you arise;

the techno music we played “too loud”,

the playgrounds we were “too big for”,

the battles we won that made us “too proud”,

the dares we did that were “too hardcore”.
I cried and laughed, dead but reborn,
and I saw a shooting star in the abyss above.

I knew you were out there, under this one sky,
one world, one destiny, one hello, one goodbye.
People don’t know, so they can’t understand,
but I’ll just sit here forever and hold the hand
of your memory.

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