“Your Face Is A Memory”

A simpler poem this one, long on cliche, and leaning on a sort of seasonal montage for its structure (and looking at it, not at all hard to see which is my favourite season). It came from a time when a friend and I were enjoying trading insults in which one person says a sentence containing whatever-noun, and the other responds “you face is a whatever-noun”. I said the title of this poem in one of those exchanges, and it chimed something inside me, and about ten minutes later, I had this poem to show for it. Which is nice.
Written December 18, 2014.

Your face is a memory,
Like the faded flowers of last summer
That we picked and twined in each other’s hair under the bright blue sky

Your face is a memory,
Like the fallen leaves of last autumn
That we crunched underfoot as we danced like mad things in the softly chilling wind

Your face is a memory,
Like the snowflakes of last winter
That we gathered into balls and snowmen in a world all turned white

Your face is a memory,
Like the breezes of last spring
That we inhaled and were invigorated by as the green world bloomed

Your face is a memory,
That I carry in my heart

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