The painting I did later may be blurred—
Impressionistic, rather, as it still
Evokes the memories of waves we heard
Against the rocks below us, and the chill
Of breezes off the lake. For once within
My mind, the picture clears. I even feel
The texture of your jacket on my skin
Where once your body rested, warm and real;
Across remembrance gently blows the scent
Of you, your hair, as if my cheek were pressed
Against it even now... Now visions meant
To last forever linger as the best
Of images, intangible, it seems,
Save one on paper to sustain the dreams.
August 10, 1986