Copyright © 2008 by William R. Mistele.

Memories from the Future

I remember these mountains and the stream

I remember her mouth and the lines of her lips

I remember the day I crossed this bridge

Her breath on my neck

Her hand on my hip

I smell the aspen and the pine

But I can no longer sense the scent of her hair

Or trace the touch of her lips against mine

The blue of the sky

The blue of her eyes

The mind without boundaries

Her eyes that see through time

I shall now climb down and kneel in the stream

Cool, wet, moist--laughing, splashing, running free

A path past the crimson cliffs of her lips,

A way through the dark forests of her scent,

Then I shall be free to rise,

To leave behind this shrine

This bridge across a heart lost in time