She could remember if you asked her.

She could remember your face-

Engraved with sharp, gliding dips and lines

Cut in countless, precise motions out of wood

Or plastered pasty clumps of mud

Packed tightly together to keep it from falling apart

But she could remember it if you had

She’s seen your soul a million times over

She’s sensed your energy in unrecognizable bodies.

In the grooves on rocks

Or along a boat’s wake

Even in a passing butterfly she’s seen you

And in moments just as fleeting, you’ve seen her too.

I’ve seen her curious stare reflecting in a turtledove’s

Her smile lines rest in the leaves of apricot tulips

I’ve seen her hair dancing in a willow tree

Twinkling as a flame in a gas lantern

Flying as a swirling cloud

Hidden in a sea of creeping thyme

Hundreds of years ago

we were two towering oaks in an orchard

from when the sun awoke to dusk she’d sway

Without any wind or music she’d soar

And I could hear a laughter embedded deep in her bark

Ringing out to tell stories of the souls she’s loved

And loving nothing more, I knew I’d hear it again.

I could remember her in a thousand years

I could remember her face

Refined in the surface of a distant planet

Etched delicately into the topmost branches of a sycamore

Or her features could be constellated by the points of cactus needles

Collected by something as temporary as sand running with the wind

But I’d still be able to remember.