Smile at what he said.

Then take good care of me.

Now can be the time.

Let go,

Let go of what you see.

The past has not let go, of me.

Thoughts of places we had gone

many miles and years ago.

Watching full moons rising,

Trees growing in the woods,

Seeing smiles on each other’s faces.

Though there is no longer a We,

I touch the memories.

Like a pebble in my pocket

rubbing smooth,

the surface of you,

and leaving me.

I’ve collected small colored pebbles

in silent water

in a clear glass saucer.

From pockets of memory,

the surface of you

is now contained

leaving me

free.