Sometimes

Sometimes

I think of you sometimes.
Even after all of the passing time.
I see you through the mist
In a room where memories
go to die.
Not really a mist
almost a fog now.
But still you exist to me.
In sight and sound and fragrance.
You are there.
Perhaps not in the old clarity
with vibrant colors that are borne
with sharpness of memory.
But muted like the moons light
Through a passing cloud.
Yet still I know
Each circle we travel
around the sun.
You will fade away more.
Each season is a time of forgetting.
Each day a footstep
In the journey of acceptance.
One distant morning
Your ghost will not appear.
Looking instead for a new
place to haunt.
But even then in the purest
moments of my reflections.
You will still visit me
in the muted greens
of a far off summer day.
Sometimes.