Dusty Memories
There was a lining
to the clouds
that shadowed our lives.

It was not silver or gold
but merely mortal colors
tinted with love and pain.

We sought truth in dusty memories
and found only ourselves in truth
lost in the dark, hand and hand.

I watched as she walked the field
unable to reach out
incapable of understanding.

Crying like lost children
we sought each other out
this one last time.

Where have the fields of yesterday gone
and what of those summer afternoons
when we played our games of wonder.
They are gone as wisps of smoke
blown about by gentle breezes
and I could not gather them for you.

Stand here with me
and watch the geese
bunch together as they fly.

Imagine a soul on the wing
graceful and loving on its final journey
all the way home.