When I release you, you will return on the wind;
When the earth calls to you, you will break free as water rising into mist
Your image is more than a yellowing photograph,
It is etched on the granite of my mind,
Carved by rivulets of time flowing unceasingly,
Molding memory into canyons where eagles soar.
Wind, water, earth—these things endure.
So does your place in my heart.
Published in Poems