“Memory...is the diary that we all carry about with us.”
Oscar Wilde

Though miles and decades
Divide us,
In my mind
We are still
Young,
Full of hopes
And dreams,
With our whole lives
Before us.
In my mind
You are still
Tall, strong,
And devastatingly handsome,
With the charismatic,
Charmingly arrogant persona
Of a romance novel hero,
And a carefully camouflaged heart
Of spun gold
That would appear
At unexpected moments.
You teased me,
Made me laugh,
Sprang to my defense,
And often
Simply made me think.
I loved you with all the passion
Of a sixteen-year-old
Woman-child,
A grand mix
Of hero worship
And youthful angst,
Of requited dreams
I did not fully believe in
(Ever hoping that I was wrong).
There was little doubt
You were fond of me as well,
But you nor I ever crossed
The bridge of our ages.
It would take years
Before I realized
It was a bridge
You could not,
And dared not,
Step foot on;
And now,
Looking back
And remembering odd moments,
I wonder--
Had my dreams
Been futile
After all?
So I close my eyes,
And am transported
Deep within my heart,
To a place
Untouched by
The negatives of life,
To that young girl
Who still exists
Harboring a love,
Pure and true ,
That has transcended
Time.

c. 2024