After letters, May 22~ year Two

Like so many other twilight interruptions we shared before I lost you, today started out no different. In the wee hours of slumber where our love empowers our souls to slip off into a realm of never been to or into a life of returned living and become vividly awake. Sometimes I pretend it’s a forerunner message in a form of a dream from you that this is what I should expect our reconnection in heaven will be like and live love once again in our truest eternity.

This morning I felt assured it was still early hours. I was wiping a damp pastiche dream of us from my eyes where you and I are still living love in a lost lifetime ago. My bare skin can still feel the faint touch of your body’s warmth against mine as I strolled through the ambient moonlit of our chalet. Half awake, half-dressed, and barefooted, I stepped out of our back door entrance where I’m met immediately with scents of your Jasmine flowers and marigolds trees that still flourish on most of our portion of the mountainside. Their aroma wraps around my neck like little children do hugging a loved one. I can’t begin to count the times I’ve sensed your presence around me. The creaking of those door hinges broke into the nearly subdued silent air as I stood there, upon that cobblestone-colored landing like so many times before with you, arms wrapped around each other just like after we laid it during our first summer of living love- here.

Before sitting on your stone-made bench, I stared off at the promising saffron dawn-lit mountainous horizon beyond all the lower summits.  And for some odd reason, I’m reminded of your echoing laughter sailing away on currents of those western chasm-induced breezes you so appreciated in our lazy afternoons. Even during the winter snows when you thought those winds created bursts of snowy ghosts to come to visit us for a season. Only now am I realizing you may have seen your future self returning here, to me during the winter of my heartfelt seasons alone. I don’t mind admitting it right now, but occasionally, in the breezes, I could swear I’ve heard your whispers calling out to me and I’m frozen at that moment as my heart and blurred eyes desperately search for your face or even fragments of your faint ghostly image. It’s the loud erratic thumping of my heart that finally stirs me from those frozen states.

I close my eyes and lean back trying to recapture us in those earlier moments in bed before something like that Wednesday morning train chugs in its slow and loud fashion over the mountain can interrupt my intentional dreamy recollection of us under a blanket of sweet fragrance. Dawn’s noticeable warmth brushes over my forehead but I pretend it’s your fingers instead, like old times. And I’m grateful at this moment that today is only a peaceful Saturday. ..

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Poet of the Light © 2023/After letter collection~

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