May 15th 2001

So many nights have passed
to count them would be foolish
but streaming back, every one
thoughts, dreams, desires, memories

The stars spark the flames
of musing lights in her eyes

The moon lights the way
to the trail I wander
trying still to find
the one right move

The wind blows the air
near and far
of landscapes true
and the conjured fragrance
of her hair

1 year, 9 months, and 1 day
Did I count?
Foolish boy!