Wafting through the osmosis
of reality and the surreal,
the past returns
fingers caress the dried leaf,
veins bare,
coursing through
the delicate fade of green
her wisps beckon,
teasing for those far off times
to re-emerge, pouring
the precious drops of memories,
catapulting for a brief sojourn
into those far off voices,
warping through corridors
of dream-like reality;
seeming more real than ever before,
laughter and sobs, resonate,
sound of searching footsteps
tracing through empty rooms
and corridors
echoing with music,
fading now,
slowly easing out of the grasp,
fingers warmed moments ago,
now cold,
gradually gone.

I sit,
on the floor,
cold, lost,
a sense of incompleteness overwhelming.

Oh my love.
Do slip back.