Flowerbreeze

Vapor-soft
and berry-sweet,
the essence of you
is not possessed
by any embrace,
but rather
in memories,
some cherished,
some embarrassed.

I don’t know
where your
Earthly home
is today,
but I know where
I can always find
you:
in the first scent
of spring,
wafting on the
flowerbreeze,
with the saxophone intro
to “What’s Going On”
reverb-filtered
playing under
my memory
of you,

in an image
that all great
romantic movies
attempt,
in vain,
to emulate.