You were the gift of

Calm waters in the estuary,

The rocky breach that revealed

Gnarled veins of gold.

Your pulse beget rhythms

Chiseled into the backbone of

My favorite songs.

Your lips revealed the tome of love

In warm minty breath

Against my cheek.

Watching you knead dough

On the old oak table in the

Breakfast nook, the wisps of

Sunlight lighting upon your

Taut triceps, wiping sweat off

And flour on your brow,

Is the type of Memory you

Submit to the Library of Congress.

Bring it back, bring it back, bring it back.