Sometimes, if I think about it,
I can still hear the way
the warm breeze whispers
through Spanish moss late at night.
And I can still feel the way
the heat would steam up off the ground
after rain storms-
so fast and so violent-
leaving the world damp and humid.
And I can still smell the salt air
the way it felt like it was becoming
part of me as I breathed it in.
And when I remember these things,
I remember the way we were then-
when we were together.
I live where the leaves drop off trees,
there are not storms every day
and the family I had is as distant
as I am from the ocean,
a memory that is as illusive
as last night’s dream.