The scent of white lilacs
on the lip of a tugboat still on the waves
catches me off-guard, reduces
the lines between
now and then
when love was too thinly
defined, and I never knew
how the romance of wild things hung
on standing still.
There are memories that come back to us when we travel between Point A and Point B and we realize life compounds, works together, takes us forward on our own steam, and the steam of itself. We are travelers making choices, but also passengers learning lessons, people pausing to breathe in the air; the scented air that resolves the things we fear by reminding us of all we hold dear; whispering – love is always near.