Unreliable Poet

I confess I don't remember
    Whether you wore your hair down
    Or tied it back into a sort-of pony tail;
    Whether your dress was red with black spots
    Or black with red spots,
    Or something else entirely.

But I perfectly recall your smile,
    Like Spring’s first sunshine
    Whose warmth lingers even now.

I may have already forgotten,
    The cadence with which you spoke
    Your intonation and inflection;
    The questions you asked me
    And the answers I found
    Down amongst the butterflies.

But I know that your voice
    Was an unchained symphony
    Was angelsong
    A spell of sweet restlessness.

I cannot forget, for I relive
Those precious, timeless moments
Each time the ghost of you
Wanders through my mind.