Lightness of being.

It is rather strange
that I would want to write poetry
about you,
about us,
now that you are gone.

But it is who we are.
We look at the past
in rose-tinted glasses, and remember
only what we would want to.

Or maybe
I just didnt see it when it was there.
That it was, for most part,
a source of happiness.

I smile when I think of you.
I hope you do too.