Yes, Sir

Monday, September 18, 2017

4 a.m. 

Nights like this were common.

Blurry eyed,
yet only one frame it took,
it caressed his face, again.

It captured me again.

Floodlights reflected the gentle stream of crystals on his cheek,
joy it was.
Joy it is. 

More than once it is, 
but one thing to say:

One line,

one year,


one answer.



[With references to my This is for you,  poem.]

"Tell me, tell me that your sweet love hasn't died...
You were always on my mind.."
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