i forget people travel in the rain

i forget people travel in the rain
i forget to think about breathing and my heart beating
and the spaces
between my ribs
(where possible flowers grow).

i forget about the italian seashells
laying about
on my dusty window seal
thinking about life and love too much,
and the way a dog runs in the middle of summer
as if he has no where and
everywhere to go.

i forget about crisp skate blades on ice when
the nights are thick and warm
full of flowers
and long conversations.
my mind runs from the stars when i am sleeping (you can understand why i do it so little)
and i often forget
about the sound your heart makes when i am near it.

but I never forget a few precious things,
like the sound of rain against glass
the potpourri of autumn scent from the trees
book pages
(their feel, their scent)
the sensation of cool grass and dewy flowers in my fingers
favorite songs, favorite lines
the chilled nostalgia of missing you always.
there are few things i rarely remember,
the sunrise perhaps,
sometimes the quietly singing moon,
yet you
dear one
are one of them.

don't you know?

-k.p.b