Walking briskly through crowded streets
hurried, toward some unnamed place
memory knocks softly at the edge of conciousness

perhaps it was a face, a momentary glimps of features familiar
or maybe a smell, perfume lingering on the still air
long after its bearer has passed
memory stirs deep finding its power to evoke
images lost in days lived and left behind
bringing the melancholy wanderer back to
remember one perfect day spent together
the cares and concerns of the world lost in
the shadows of the moment, the shining glow
of faces connected by some secret link
illuminated from within
eyes sparkling
energy crackling
spirits buoyed
from the joy, the freedom
felt in that exhilarating exchange

that perfect moment
on that perfect day
though once lived
now lost behind
remaining only as traces
to remind the melancholy wanderer.