butterfliegen

as if
to re
treat, myself
to a luminous
past more
like happy
memories, or these
wishes for her,
to be, present
in a prescient
future I see
but cannot. it is
only now. with
out_her. over
there. in an
other life, yet
intertwined like our
wine, grapes
traipsing around
vineyards of time, inescapable.
as a kiss. though
we missed that
harvest.

and this, a
new season, aged.
are we any
closer to completion?

my heart, beats
it never forgets:
her rhythm
in my blood. in
my bones, her
reverberation,
an aching echo.
yet,
her laughter. always.