Ninety years upon this earth today.
I never thought to reach this age.
I even prepared myself on millennium eve
to exit this life’s stage.
No one has inquired as to my finest memory
and so nobody can know
about my little secret upstairs
behind the door that doesn’t show.
Those three rooms haven’t seen the light of day
for nearly forty years.
That one place never knows anger or pain
or suffers the desolation of wasted tears.
You do not require human trappings
like food and water and air,
and neither do I when I ascend the worn treads
to join your energy there.
When that vessel landed near the barn
on that windy May afternoon,
I was picking wildflowers for a bouquet
to place on my lost love’s tomb.
The capsule was small, barely room for you
standing tall and straight wearing not one thread.
Your perfect body moved slowly, disoriented,
then our eyes met; no words were said.
Yet you divined every nuance of my agony,
the loneliness and doubt and pain.
Your smile was familiar. With that smile,
I began to live again.
My heart soars as I ascend the stairs
knowing you wait in our special place.
We exist in the spaces in between,
beyond time and man and fate.