I told you once, long ago,
that even if I couldn't see your nose,
your eyes, or your lips
I would still know you
from the curve of your cheek.
Well you are many years gone
and I am an old man
but in that hill to the West
I see an unmistakable curve.
I am walking now toward it.
It is craggy country.
I might brittle and shatter,
but I will reach that hill.
I will sit and look over the side,
see if I can't find your eyes,
your lashes of long, long grass.