When distant footsteps echo

Our  trip the States


seems years away.


When we are on holiday


I write and write and write.


Postcards. 


Journals.


 ( Last trip to America I filled three.)


I take thousands 


( yep, you heard right )


of photographs. 


Yet..


when I get home 


I never know how much of it to share.


How can  someone share the deepest 


recesses of their heart ?


However,


today I thought of a way I could.


Come November,


I'll tell you.


The more things happen to me,


the more I can't tell 


or remember even what they were...


except this.


You said it to me under the Sahara sky.


* You will never be lovelier than you are now. 
We will never be here again. *

For me, you had never spoken more elequently
than that moment.

Come, November,
come.