Painting Asta

I held your image in my hand and didn't know that it wasn't you.

Two paintings sit abandoned. Like a tiger ghost estate.

An ambition that was too much.

Now I can't go back.

To where you were.

To see your hair.

To see your chair.

To feel the woollen hug.

To hear the sigh of love pour out.

To be reminded that we are a small part of the all and we are the all that there is.

To come back to the peace.

To come back to the woods.

To go to the circle.

To laugh.