Memory

A poem written while biking accross France and Italy recalling someone left behind.

It speaks in solitude
A nagging whisper of the mind
It paints a face in air
That hides green glowing hills
Spreading languidly out
veiling the horizon
Memory plagues the present
filling it with phantom forms
Beautiful forms of joy
half-forgotten, but lost?
The heart beats in trepidation
The skin quivers with the mind
Fear slides through softened cracks
Shining metal turned to liquid
By the simple pleasure of a look.