I know this path
familiar
unfamiliar
as the river
that scores my hand
the knowing prophesy
of life
and all that love
imagines us
into being

I know these blossoms
they are friends of mine
names I’ve misplaced
times
that left me wanting
empty for a drink
of remember

I know this way
as once I lingered
somewhere else
another me
was here the same
tho not made wise
by the memory
of love
we carried

. . .