Looking out the window, the setting sun painted a gold streak on the calm lake. The day had taken its toil. You had been gone for so long.
Yet, it seemed like yesterday, with my arm around your shoulders, we had sauntered across the glade. The evening air was filled with the scent of woods, yet all my senses were pregnant only with you. We reminisced memories ever radiant in our old heads, seemingly for a hundredth time, yet untiringly as if flipping through a photo album.
Then came the promise. We will to meet again, somewhere, sometime. And just as the dull clouds drifted over the lake, I thought I saw a couple in each other's arms, a floating speck on the shadowy grass.
And I knew immediately that it was you and me, somewhere in time.
For John Barry