your memory is made of light, of smoke, of a still pond!

Day 23: "Shadows"
My old beloved cactus, Bob

I remember you as you were last autumn.
You were the grey beret and the still heart.
In your eyes the flames of the twilight fought on.
And the leaves fell in the water of your soul.

Clasping my arms like a climbing plant
the leaves garnered your voice, that was slow and at peace.
Bonfire of awe in which my thirst was burning.
Sweet blue hyacinth twisted over my soul.

I feel your eyes traveling, and the autumn is far off:
grey beret, voice of a bird, heart like a house
towards which my deep longings migrated
and my kisses fell, happy as embers.

Sky from a ship. Field from the hills:
Your memory is made of light, of smoke, of a still pond!
Beyond your eyes, farther on, the evenings were blazing.
Dry autumn leaves revolved in your soul.

[Pablo Neruda {1904-1973}, ‘I Remember You As You Were’, from Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair]


  1. Replies
    1. I miss that Bob. He did well in that apartment. My little guys are doing all right - I have four of them now - but none grow quite like he did. I'm glad to know yours are flourishing!