Thrown Memoirs of Soul Mates

The old cypress steadily marks my walk where trembling birds roost under misty rain, As I pause along a white-stoned port shrouded by tangled album of littered memories: Gentle this breath the breeze upon a heaving chest While furrowed leaves stoop on this marsh: Somehow, my hands threw the folder of memoirs into a bin ... Breaths lingering deep to caress edges, that only winds understood my twin- soul gone. Then in a whim, a stranger picked the folio, handing it to me just before the stars faded on my prayers : Now, I stride down the lane to cross a wooden bridge Until arms of ocean below my throbbing feet Carry scenes and vignettes of a distant place only known to us... In hindsight, the poems I scribbled within torn pages gave birth to a new exposure on twin hearts, of soul mates hiding among serendipitous spaces Flushed ashore like a mesh of ocean waves , only to understand we are like water flowing, cascading in a universe of not- knowing.