Photograph

The shadow calls to me
                        from a photograph, a painting.
                        Those hills looming, but comforting -
                        because you spoke of them to me
                        I remember the image
                        as the sun sets quietly…

                        Your smile worn, but real emerges
                        from a stranger, a friend
                        My lover, your mirror
                        reflecting the love you gave
                        Always with a cherished memory
                        your eyes told stories
                        your hands held life.
                        A mother who loved,
                        a beloved who
                        really lived...

                        The shadow calls to me
                        from a familiar prayer
                        Dreams with light and peace…
                        are simply you, the sun
                        setting quietly
                        into darkness.
                        Watchful, patient
                        eager to meet again…
                        Certain to meet again