A photograph may last longer, that is true.
But is that what we were seeking? Or did we wish only for the ephemeral, the winged moments that no glance so searing could ever capture?
I saw it again, though, as if it were yesterday. I felt the warmth of your kiss, tender, in the fleeting grin I stole in that picture, captured in a turn of words you wrote to me, song we shared, a handkerchief. The things I had forgotten, now return to me, like the sunshine on that rare day, an everyday but not today. I wish it were.
I wish you were here, that the space between moments and miles were short. But I feel it still. I grasp your scent, your voice, close my eyes. You are close, an angel holding me tight, safe, thrill, somewhere familiar.