A flake of memories reappears, from the darkness of my mind. A misty, timeless souvenir, filled with reminiscing.
In the soft wind of a summer night, you stand there, just beside me, watching the same shadow of the same tree. But the delineation talks to you differently.
The moon silently walks in the sky to continue its way. Tree remains but its shadow shifts. Swayed by the wind, night begins to decline and let the day play the next act.
The mind pleasantly flees this place, escapes the instant, to dive into the moment, in that time breach where all was soft and truly fated.
How many times do we have in a lifetime to break our growth, and accept to remember and appreciate a sensation, a touch, a warm embrace, a destined rendezvous?
On these thoughts, the memory vanishes, as fast as breath on a candle, hoping to echo what lived that day.
How many opportunities do we have to let time speak, to allow past dialogs with future, and let it become an eternal renewal, neither before nor after, but something free to repeat.
The forever Youth.