The air crumbles into silence and
the words behind my lips are not enough,
will never be,
as the air around us is a fragile wind
on which words whither instead of fly.
For simply being you, the fires of laughter light up our souls
and burn the way forward, pathways forming and
fading, but not gone for good.
And the hours we counted will remain locked in
the stony heart of time.
Those pockets and bubbles stretch apart
like wispy clouds in the sky,
and spill out like raindrops on a chilly morning,
and frost the roots of our future,
and climb the horizon each day,
a rising sun of remembrance.
And in all of those ways
you are with me, and ever.
Because you were simply: You.