one basket

I am building a bridge to you –
ever so slowly, lest it crumble –
one I intend to cross only once,
else die atop unfinished;
but your movements distance you,
the latter seeming certain now.

Yet I steel my heart to buck against
the human tendency to forget –
that one defense which, in time
steers us all away from loneliness;
I dare to defy this overwhelming force
with the simple act of remembrance.

So I remember, without your consent,
all that I choose – though no one need know
that I see your face on all faces, like daylight;
hear your voice in all voices, like the wind;
and, in dreams, feel your hair draped
over me, like willow leaves.

It would not serve you to realize
that here, in this lonely nest of a heart,
do I lay your memories, carefully
like eggs into a basket, to rest –
neither warm enough to hatch,
nor cold enough to finally die.