Time ago, I wished I aged with you,
but it seems I met you yesterday and now you are younger;
prettier, smarter, wiser;
you became a doctor, sociologist, psychotherapist,
an author, an accomplished artist.
Three weeks without your company,
while you travel in Venezuela,
seem like an abyss in time;
although, perhaps, you never left,
for your presence is eternal,
in my mind, heart, and soul.
The house feels empty,
but I feel you everywhere;
in every corner, pictures, dozens of pictures;
your lovely watercolors,
expressions of your subtle tact, warm humor,
your spiritual beauty.
Pictures of France, Spain, Colombia,
Italy, Portugal, Caribbean islands,
Canada, the United States, China;
pastoral scenes, rural homes, clay vases;
flowers, trees, stone arches, ancient walls,
cobblestone streets, iron gates;
a cat, a few sheep, a dove;
a languid water fountain, in a solitary patio, forgotten by time;
medieval villages surviving modernity;
a splendid horizon, light pastel colors,
expressions of your sweet voice;
witnesses of our journeys through the world;
a lifetime of beautiful memories,
of joy, of contemplation;
of understanding, of personal growth.
Magic watercolors, constantly bringing your presence;
I listen to your melodious voice in my mind;
I hear you always humming and singing, even while you eat;
I need not you be here to feel you by my side;
I feel you here, with me, though you are not;
I love you through time and space;
I converse with you, alone, aloud!
Am I delirious?
Or is it that profound love is madness?
Then I wish I’d never heal.
Forever, I love you.
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Ron