I was.
I was eyes wide awake on a Sunday picnic
in the silent meadows of Bouillon,
drinking the green and all that was serene.
I was ears at the Santorini seasides,
spying on the in-betweens of the wave to wave sighs,
On secrets that came by the shore, only to subside.
I was lips, painting gardens of Holland tulips,
being a momentary -van Gogh to my beautiful Bulb Fields.
I was day-dreams dallying with the dashing French lilies,
swaying with the wind, in ways with no hint.
I was a thousand threads of golden brown hair
Flying in the seamlessness of a September Seattle sky,
waiting to flow in slow snowflakes on the mighty Cascades, so high.
I was.
I was kisses washed in sunshine and moonlight.
I was countless rays of hope in a bell jar of golden fireflies.
I was rainbows of stolen souvenirs and hitchhiked memories.
I was infinities of tomorrows and unbroken vows.
I was a truth, with a heart so pure.
I was everything that could endure.
I am but also I was.
I was everything before this moment.
I was a melody of thunderstorms nobody heard.
I was a room of locks in an invisible cloak.
I was a lullaby of all little things this moment is made of.
I am but also I was.
I was and I was and I was.
I am, for a hundred reasons.
But I was, for so much more.
And, I beg you
For all the times you forget to remember me for what I am,
Forget me not, dear, for what I was.
Forget me not, for my silence that stayed in your shouts.
Forget me not, for my words that filled your torn full stops.
Forget me not, for my myriad colors that lit your black&white’s.
Forget me not, for my fire that fuelled your cold insides.
Forget me not, for all this and more,
for that is all what I was and I will be in your yores’.
I am but also I was.
I was and I was and I was.
I am, for a hundred reasons.
But I was, for so much more.
And, I repeat
For all the times you forget me for what I am,
Forget me not, dear, for what I was.