I want to return to the plain door
of remarkable beauty.
I want to hear the words
inside the table
where we shared our meals.
I want to leave our picture
in the house that remembers us.
I want to smell the seasons
of our past,
in the air at dawn.
I want to touch a wing
that flew all night
to find our garden.
I want to see the rock
that reaches into the sea for us,
and learn the names
of the trillion cells,
that make a single mind
in each of us.
I want forever to be a place
that endures for us
in celebration of our lives.
Lilacs in August.