All the times you remembered you had forgotten something,
(a pencil, a book, door keys, license, train tables, your watch;
the inexhaustible things of activity)
was a trick, a tug to remember the big things –
my heart, my name, your soul, our destiny, our story;
a patchwork of remembering and forgetting,
a black void of agony sequined with stars.
What is remembered glitters,
hemmed with my calling, stitched with Love,
Even the moon smiles from time to time in recollection of us.
Our story doesn’t forget you,
You love all your romances under this canopy.