Waltzing With Your Memory

The appeal of the place
has nothing to do 
with what it can offer me. 
In fact, 
it offers nothing
except a lonely ache

But still I come 
to run fingers over surfaces 
and seek through shadows 
with a glance of lingering eyes,
and take a slow, 
wavering breath.

I pause, 
even though I know
not to expect to find you,
my pilgrimage has been deliberate
and I embrace the ache,
for it is made of you
and with it
I am closer to you
than without it. 

 

july 2005