I remember...
we walked through the Golden Gate park,
holding hands in the moonlit dark.
we biked along the beaches of the Pacific,
describable as utterly, simply terrific.
I remember...
we skiied the slopes of the Sierra slope,
then bathed together in bubbly soft soap.
we hiked up the switchbacks of Yosemite,
far away from the biggest, nearest city.
I remember...
we swam together in the Almaden lake,
once a year only on Spring's break.
we drove together along the California coast,
and made love under the bright stars unlike most.
I cried,
when you first told me you loved me,
and wouldn't be free without me.
when I asked for your hand for life,
and you said yes you would be my wife.
I cried,
when you gave us our first child,
I felt like a man when she first smiled.
when she grew up and became a woman,
only then did I feel like a true man.
I sobbed,
when you told me you loved me,
while I held your hand beside your bed.
I sobbed,
when the glimmer in your eyes dimmed away,
and I could do nothing to make you stay.
I sobbed,
when I kissed your lips for the last time,
because it was the end of your life's prime.
I died,
when I realized I had finally left you alone,
for it did not matter that I was on my own.
I died,
when I realized I couldn't let you be alone,
and let you go on being on your own.