I am in the midst of love—
Always, unwittingly, year after year,
everything about love…
Encapsulated in the soul,
(like that of a recipe),
A great aunts, grandmother’s…
Stored in a tin canister,
refused to give-up or cast-away.
Old tying into the new…
Because that what we choose to savor,
essentially, is who we become.
I am you, forever.
When I recall your heart,
there is my own—
And wherever there was failure,
I forget,
forgive,
by the pain of laughter so distant,
I cannot capture,
but let it cloak me like the warmth of the sun.
A day, you died.
A day, the intimacy of life escaped…
I was reborn into the recollection,
perfection.
Any reason to doubt is gone.
Because you were…
you are,
And I am—
Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2015 All Rights Reserved