Selective Memory 

My imperfect mind pushes you into abstraction. 

To think of you as you were then as how

You are now strains my grasp on what is. 

My senses betray my feelings as I 

Grope for an image of you that can 

Be placed in the past with gladness

Instead of regret. And I make 

Amends with myself as I 

Remember as I choose. 

But this morning something 

Slipped through the sieve. 

I stood by my window and 

Watched the midsummer 

Sunrise shine life over the 

Earth and my thoughts were

Only of You.