Break, Stop, Shatter, Crumble, Tremble, and Fall

(Fred & Doreen George with Company Upon Return from The War, 1940's)

Breaking through the textures, the surface seems to bend in compliance to this force. I call the wind a sudden rip, a knife through the water, bumbles cavitate a sound of swiftness. You were made for such travelling, the world over. I limp as lame, holding my cane, seeing you off, telling you to remember me upon your travels. You will see the world over and over, and share with me, and those you meet, the many stories you hold dear. How do you remember? If I were to ask of all the people you have known, you would gather two chairs, sit me down, and speak before me for many hours. Painted images, each as vivid as being there. I won't tell you, how thankful I am, like those who have heard your many stories, I will be silent as humble as I press my ear to your words, and listen ever so carefully without a thought in mind, keeping each and every, close, and closer to me, and to mind, and to heart I will keep your stories there. Where are you now, as I look beyond my window, of cloudless skies, without a moon in sight, and the dim lighting of a city about to sleep? I can hear laughter across the street, as lone couples walk without their eyes following mine. I wonder what stories you are telling right now, with your company, to whoever they may be, and I wonder, and wonder as my eyes fall back into a world where we first met. What stories are you telling now, as you break, stop, and shatter into the world of mementos and reminiscence, of milky reverie as my eyes close, my world starts to crumble, my skin trembles, and I fall into the milk of my dreams. Only to find you.