I share the image of her face:
The arched cheekbones
The sculpted nose
The high forehead
Though I know so little
Of the woman with my features
Looking worldly, more mature,
Sophisticated, sensual beyond her years
Her smile knowing
Chin confidently raised
Her gaze flirtatious
Lips coquettishly pursed
I seek out memories
Of her life from those that she once loved
Relentless queries do not cease:
Her preferences in fashion,
Did she like bright colors or dark?
Favorite kinds of music?
Country, rock and roll or pop?
Foods she found appealing?
Sweet, savory, or full of spice
Did she speak softly or full of force?
Did her hands restlessly move?
Were they folded demurely in her lap?
I try to assemble, put pieces together,
Picture I can recognize, as if restoring
A damaged fresco in a Renaissance Church
Tessellations, a mosaic pattern,
Fragments glued, united in my mind,
My greatest hope is that I
Will see the image of myself