I remember

I remember

those tiny notes

of love

from Jonathan Livingstone Seagull,

small squares

of white emptiness,

full of a few lines

drawn from the heart,

and a nondescript sketch

of a tiny bird

in a corner,

to where my eyes

wandered every time,

like a compass

at rest;

I remember how I loved

your writing –

how you made yourself small

through your word art,

and how you stood out

through your disappearance,

simplicity and austerity;

I remember so many things

of our times together,

and perhaps memories

are the simple ways

we remember

the changing

and the changeless

in each of us.