Somehow, even the act of remembering
can be a form of nourishment.

We let ourselves become
lost in a memory that fills us,

gives our souls almost
a substance and weight—

after which reverie is broken
and our souls then walk

ahead of us a little bit,
feeling partly fuller for the moment,

sated, relieved, in small part happier
as if having visited

our most comfortable home
with oldest, dearest friends—

with the nature of yearning
to be refreshed in that moment again.