Remember the sweet grass and wild flowers that faintly bloom and buzz in your heart's memory.
by Robert Alexander Merrett
Flitting like the bees, pollenating, perpetuating, creating.
Remember the walks on windy heather moors, lashed in rain, soaking and seeping into skin and bone,
Then flowing within, nevermore without your stream of being.
Remember the lust of luscious kisses, bold and hard, salivating in salacious connection.
Forever to be marked, a subtle part of your soul.
Remember the lost object of affection, embedded so deep it frames the very fabric of your sway and smile.
Love true enough to sit as a pit of emptiness in your stomach.
Yet though they are remembered as if gone, they are not.
They are manifested in you, through you, as you.
And the sweet grass and wild flowers remember, your faintly bloom and buzz in their perpetual memory.
And the moors of heather hold dear your footsteps, your damp weight pressing upon their composition.
And the lover with faded kisses has not forgotten, your touch now has left its quiet, perceptible alteration.
And though you are the lost object of affection, you are now remembered.
Yet though you are remembered as if gone, you are not. You are manifested in them, through them, as them.