Sometimes upon entering,

Sometimes upon entering,

With the room a little dark

The blinds pulled down

To keep out the heat of the sun

A single beam traversing the

Empty space

Like a searchlight

Bathing the pillow in a milky glow,

Dust motes floating

Mating Mayflies dancing,

Her face as still as a photograph

An image caught long ago

Carried through the ages

The semblance of a smile

Barely formed,

Bashful eyes half closed

My thoughts stumble

One into another.

She is by my side as we talk

About inconsequential things

The smell of her hair

As we walk through a field

Of wildflowers

At midnight

Streamers of light twinkling

From a distant hotel

The moon balanced on her hand.

The stars, a universal mystery

Barely revealed

As they rush further away

An Egyptian sunset

An estuary sunrise.

She saw Turner painting

The fighting Temeraire

Strapped to a mast.

I smile at the memory

Atoms and molecules repurposed,

As light is dispersed

There is a depth to the darkness.

Outside the sun goes down

Inside

The images change

The patterns on pillows

Dissipate slowly.

There is a longing in their languor

A gentle struggle

To remain whole.

Even as they dissolve

Apparitions solidify

Into new shapes

And she is in them,

Every one.