I raise my eyes to the dying light,
only to see the beloved visage reflected there.
Memory is strong, of vision and sound both,
should the remembrance be of such beauty
that I fall to my knees in the glory of it all.
Among the bleeding red to crimson orange,
I see thy blue eyes there amongst the clouds,
peering through the holes in heaven.
If only once more, I could see your face
or perhaps, look into your eyes
I would shut my own and fall to earth
my heart would dare to stop in the moment,
allowing the final memory to be of you
where I want you always smiling at me.

© Johanna Fugitt 2017