Breathing For Her

I am not thinking of her today. She is dead, and I can’t think of the bones somewhere at the edge England or at the edge of a field bulldozed by time. Love keeps me alert though, love of many people known and unknown. I do talk to her life when not thinking of her with this constant breathing I practice. Many desire the unattainable, but untimely death steals even that away. I hope she once was a mirror of God and I am not still following a shattered image.