Forgetful Remembrance
I'm looking for the misty meadow full of moss,
Ground damp, fog in the trees, where I was found before I was lost.
Hope rains down, rays of the sun's gloss;
Green eyes glimmer with a summery frost.
The sun or hair couldn't compare with her dismissive toss —
Little did Icarus know what reaching would cost.
Somatic amnesia should have been relief,
A mind emptied to burn away the grief.
Gaps in the trees, reminders that memory fades;
Her ghost made a home in the voids and the shades.
So I return to the misty meadow full of moss,
The morning on my tongue, mild and melting frost;
In forgetful remembrance, every road I've crossed
Leads back to the fog, to what I can't forget I've lost.