That Day
Today I found a picture from my past which recalled a day that once was. A night spent asleep on a pier. A sunrise train with red upholstery. The scent of Neapolitan pizza. The sound of song in a cliffside cave. A walk inside Sappho’s verses. The remains of an ordinary day laid out invitingly in the vivid garden of memory. But then, out of nowhere, I remembered something else, a fragile realisation that invaded the moment the way a lightning bolt shatters the stillness of a starry night. That day, you were still alive.
