Our Hill

I sit on our hill
There is silence, except for the breath of the world
It caresses the leaves softly
Tenuously, as I imagine my hand would touch your face

It stirs dormant memories
Precious baubles fill my consciousness
A smile, a laugh, a caress, a scent
Your touch, your embrace, your kiss

The Autumn sun warms my face
Awakens me
As I walk away, eyes closed
I can feel your hand in mine