by LJ Frank

April come she will, when streams are ripe and swelled with rain, May, she will stay, Resting in my arms again ~ Simon & Garfunkel

Time has no pauses except in my Mind’s Eye. Memories come and go, like a scene in an old, uncensored photograph or film with faces distant and slightly tinted, my opinions are regularly edited and refreshed like a lake that’s spring fed, and I am aware that one can fall in love with a perception, like the aroma of a wine from an empty sheepskin, kisses desired are like lingering’s unspoken, amid ambiguous if not fractious events wanting to be forgotten, though the faded scars remain…and joys are wishing to be retained even for a glimpse into what might have been…

What is real in a given moment…care must be taken of the soul, words are rooted in experience like that of duality for a psychological and philosophical framing, but how do we measure the hour…

And there are those simple moments where we might wear a warm scarf to caress us on a chilly, damp day, with the smell of wet soil filling our nostrils and awakening our spirit…to know textures of character and hands held dear, such things can have a humane aura and inspire the eupnea of a thought that was once relegated to a dustbin of the almost…

And some experiences in life appeal to my senses more than others…and to touch, to feel, to taste and to immerse myself is the better passage…along the journey I’ve observed there are  fragrances missing like flowers that are no more…for even the strands of a memory that skimmed the surface are threaded deeper than one might suppose…and a memory, real or induced, affects the ability of the heart to relate…and in a Spring without pause, the memory of a smile might emerge for the gift of another breath… and to cherish means to hold the endearing memory in the mind’s arms…