At The Well in Letters of Renaissance

It’s alarming, unknown to me, how somewhere the memories mutter and some fade.  Some disagree.  Some approach nearly faded and speak to me.
Quiet apparition, names once spoken, beds we once shared.  Bodies and tears.  Where I found gladness unprotected.  So often, I don’t remember.
Clouds gathered for shadows that reminisce of the night.  So dark at day, it’s strange.
And I thought to myself:
I almost lost you!  Almost!  Almost lost you…
Once the name I whispered as to conjure, as I looked down into a shimmering, mirror-like, pool.  How could I have forgotten?  The one I asked again and again for in my worst of days.  Not even thinking of you for so many days of my life feels like an awful mistake.
How can I repay?

(Photograph by Marriott Canby Morris)