I remember the moment I fell for you.
I wanted to sniff your hair
in the dark

and wrap a curl arround my index finger
if we made love.

I close my eyes and write other moments,
weaving words into verse.
I find myself on Jack’s Knob
in winter, brown leaves
crunching beneath my feet as snow falls or

I find myself on Hay Creek in April,
wading clear water where Red Horse
spawn as twilight gives way to night,
but thunder in the southwest cuts short
those images.

I sit on a bench in Heidelberg, Germany,
the memory of it vidid, looking up hill
toward  a castle I could not see
although it called to me, as inviting as
you were the moment I fell for you.

I stand at home alone, typing on a keyboard,
and I remember swimming beneath the falls
in Crystalina, Brazil, sparkling like your eyes
did when I wanted to sniff your hair
in the dark.

I stood once above Cumberland Falls,
the moon bow bright below,
I wish it could have shined 
on your hair when I curled it
around my index finger.

I stand alone, remembering how
I walked Trafalger Square at night,
moving against the crowd the way
I did on Poros, Greece
above Zorba’s Taverna.

I type words. 
I close my eyes.
You cannot hide within a heart ache.
I remember the moment I fell for you
and you will always be there in the dark.