In the end, I will not remember everything, only a softened version of the surroundings, of the sights, the sounds, the smells, the tastes, the touch, and the feelings. I will not remember the full truth, only a sepia version of the reality. I will not remember you, only an imprint of your soul on mine...
Today,
the sun did not gaze gloriously under an azure path.
It
wasn't even sure to gaze at all, as it faded
Back
and forth, in and out of insecure, unsettled clouds,
That
made no cotton puffs, no pillows, fluffed and white,
But
lean, grey, sickly whiffs over a smoggy sky.
In
ten years, I won't remember the color of the dress I wore,
Only
that you smiled and called it beautiful.
I
won't remember the small café
Where
we chatted away for just an hour or so,
But
I'll recall the surreptitious smile,
The
careful glances, the visionary hopes
That
overturned the commonplace mood,
The
franchised coffeehouse aroma, devoid of character,
And
the too-loud music in the background.
It
won't take me long to forget the dim-lit night,
Or
the bland drive-by scenery of scorched desert land.
But
I'll remember the reflection on the front window
Of
the old and new dashboard and your concentrated eyes,
The
faint music with some redesigned meaning,
And
the sound of suppressed chuckles,
And
the furious wind howling outside.
I
won’t remember why there were tears
When
the sun was so insensitive, beaming on my bench.
I
won’t remember why my brow was furled so deeply,
And
my heart beat, soft and restless, with the rustling grass,
But
I’ll recall the tenderness of your forgotten words,
Your
earnest tries to understand,
And
your gentle inquisitions.
It
won’t take me long to forget the cold words,
The
shrugs, the shallow dankness of the room,
But
I’ll remember the sunken hopes and dull disappointments
That
stood still like the sunset over silent waters.
And
better, I'll remember your afterwards,
The
taste of cool ice melted, trickling down my throat,
And
your beforehand cast down at my feet,
And
your wholeness in warmth again.
In
ten years, I won't remember times or dates or emails,
Voicemail
messages and texts will be erased.
But
I'll remember the scent of your cologne,
And
the way you part your hair,
And
the way you say "hello,"
Behind
an honest smile,
And
your unpretending ways.
Today,
there was no sunset. The clouds puffed up and filled the sky.
Another
tiring day passed, another same-old sigh.
But
as today dissolved, from cocoon emerged the butterfly.
It
metamorphosed to a memory, shedding a shell of triteness,
And
leaving behind the bare beauty of souls
Engraved
in time.
--Zulema Ibarra May 22, 2007
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