I Remember

Strange how memory
Always paints your face
In a thousand
Bright, foreign hues.
True colours they seem
From a misplaced palette.

We clung together then,
Falling swiftly,
Yet softly,
Grasping at strings
Of one another's thoughts.
Intertwined.

The air was gentle
Between us;
Cradling our souls - two leaves
In nature's arms.
Unforced, unguided,
Yet as one.

Our words, a precious jewel
Glowed; anew
In the light of suns.
Faded now, tarnished;
Yet carried still - brilliant
Somewhere beneath the grime.

And now the wind
is bitter, fighting
at torn threads.
And my memory,
a redundant artist,
Thinks only in grey.

If that unforgetable stone
Were polished now
Would we again live in colour?
Could we float forever,
Twin of mine, earthbound
No more?

Well woven, this! I felt the brightness of the jewels and suns, I felt the ripple in the air, falling in the wind. Love the term "earthbound" and how you use it here. Clutching the memory can be even more tiring than the fall. Well done!

For the book

Nice imagery. A point gotten across without being maudlin.