Is it possible to remember a time
and place you have never seen.

She is like the mist,
in a past not there;
in a vision, a guise of love.

Is it nostalgia, true nostalgia,
to yearn for that 
which you never had.

Neither known nor
unknown, she is
my own, above the heights,
the lost sights and sounds and smells
of love.

The rolling hills are there,
and passing through them
brings the clear clarion call
of remembrance.

The music of lost passages
of time; of lost
love, never mine.

Smelling the golden grasses
dried by the symphonic sunlight
of summer.

Her hair, filled with the odor
of sun filled days,
and nights, in the season
of love.

Touching the live oak leaves
redolent with green, as tears
of longing drop among 
the acorns of desire.

Skin of velvet and musk,
glowing with the russet 
loveliness of loss,
still to be found.

Sing to me, meadowlarks,
sing and echo down the valleys,
laughing as they roll away,
together once more,
as never before,
here in our heartland of heavenly thirst
for the sweet honey
of home.

Her song trills and causes
trembling,
in my mind,
in my heart and my fantasy, my
fond remembrance of the past.

Home once more,
for the first time of
many times to come.

Home, where she lives,
in my memories,
of nostalgic visions
to come.

Returning home, returning
to a place and time out of time,
no longer there, no longer
there.

Where, did she ever exist,
or is my mind my own,
not my own,
never known.

Never really there.

She is really there.

Lost in my memories and
now found
in my dreams of brilliant 
buttercups.

Blossoms of blessed love,
petals falling from my eyes.

My eyes seek and send my heart
the feelings of remembrance and
nostalgia,
aching, necessary nostalgia,
that fills me up.

She fills me up,
and the memories are real,
they are real,
so real.

Fills me up a store of memories 
to succor me
when remembrance is all there is and
all there ever will be.

All there is,
is the remembrance of her 
and all she is.

Of the place
that really only lives
within me, inside me, all alone in
my chambered soul.

My chambered soul,
she fills.