Searching.
Finding small pieces everywhere.
In everyone I come to know.
Tripping over reminders.
So that i don't forget;
a dog ear or a scrawled note, a photograph.
A laugh, a cry or a word.
Sometimes sharp.
Pain,
that I remember.
Sometimes sweet.
Joy,
that I also remember.
Sometimes bizarre.
A dream,
that I can't quite remember.
A model on a hill, bereft of trees with only drying barley grass
At dusk,
in the wind,
caught in the fading light.
A gang of hundreds of tiny children on motor bikes,
wearing colourful clothes, speed by us.
Kicking up dust and seeds.
The air moves faster,
and I can't find my camera.
And I'm too far away to be heard.
The wind becomes impatient.
My voice gets lost.
I shout out.
I panic.
I want a capture because,
all i can think is how french you look to me.
And how utterly beautiful.
As in,
breath taking.
It's a surprise to me.
For in my mind's eye I see not a sister,
as expected.
But,
a
stunning
woman.
One I have never seen before.
A girl from another time and place.
One who doesn't belong to me.
Anymore.
Or to the world or to anyone else.
By now I realise that I'm shouting,
she can't hear me,
and I cant find it.
That thing.
That thing I've been looking for.
That thing I need so desperately.
That thing i need to make her beautiful.
To light paint her.
Into existence.
Into life.
Into love.
Into sharing.
Into being.
Into becoming the thing that never will be.
That is now only in my deepest of dreams.
In the depths of my memory.
In our imagination.
In our imagination.
Threaded throughout, and within.
Where my voice will not reach.
Where my camera can not reach.
A dream,
to catch the light.
So that I can just look at her for a little while longer.
....Or forever.
A dream,
to capture all the little pieces, that the years have scattered around,
for me to find.
As I go.
