Killyon

Remember Killyon, last July?  Remember how the day peeped through and the water droplets, outside the house, kept us inside and warm?  Remember there were others in the kitchen, drinking the last of the whiskey, and we could hear laughter in the hall?

You asked me if I loved you and when I said that I did, you asked me why.

And I said “I love you for your comical brilliance, your effortless sparkle and for all of your kindnesses.  I love you as a diversion from realism, as an interlude from concreteness and as a lantern at daybreak.  You are the bolts of my substance, my solidarity with vivacity and the base of my fabric.  You are the tangible verisimilitude of a sunrise at Killyon, and I love you”.