And should you remember me....

Let it be with fondness
for I know poets fall in love
every five minutes to find
something new to say
about the world in relation
to their centrefuge, thier
microchasm of experience.
Let it be with love, still,
for the cuddled moments
enfolded in blankets waiting
for the wakeful world intruding
despite our better wishes
to sleep past the early morning.
Let it be with something more
and not with less regret
that meeting and parting are the
languages of love, of life, of blessings
at late hours when it seemed
nothing would ever be right.
Let it be
Let it be
The sort of fondness for a friend
lost among the email
the phone and the fame
of an ordinary life in coffee spoons
Dr. Pepper and inventions
on a large screen TV.
Should you remember me
let it be with love
and perhaps lidded vision
rememberance of
flame and sorrow of bodies
parted not by will but
waves of seperation as you
traveled forward something
like the universe did
so
long
ago
like the
crash
bang
of my heart when I heard
her
name.