Diane's Reflections

We found ourselves in the caverns of the nave, one day sheltering from the sun, a time to recede into holy shadow and bask in baked walls, their white, homely dust settling about our footprints. In fatigue, my Diane sits heavy on the pew with head bowed from heat or in prayer? I stand and take her in, the touch of buttercup in calm endurance of years and years she seeks some answer at her feet. It felt to me that moments in our days together should not be left in dust, such as those in this cavern so, to frame our memories I committed her to lens and captured her, the sweet intimacy she shares with both nave and husband, my sweet Diane. And yet, it appears, this moment shares a life, absent from us. As we gathered in the still of the evening, home again to recollect and add the moment to the collection sitting on our shelf of memories we gazed upon the picture of Diane, in her stillness, reposed and alone, we thought yet there she sat, in the white glow of some unearthly light our very own ghostly companion, she sat with Diane to reflect upon some moments of her own long past, and we like to think that in her long expressions in the cavernous nave, sat on the pew in dreams, in white my own Diane will grace her thoughts and be part of her tapestry.