SLR (Sorry, Late Reply)

She reminds me of mornings,
Of sunrise and new beginnings,
Of the first sip of coffee,
The warmth that creeps inch by inch,
That momentary heart burn,
Pulling you in for another sip,


She reminds me of sunsets,
Of long walks and sands and beaches,
The sun's graceful goodbye,
As its rays carefully thumbs through the sky,
That melancholic murmur of ocean waves,
Caressing your feet and gripping your chest,
That momentary jolt of shiver to the spine,
Pulling you in, as if whispering; "stay"

She reminds me of novels and books,

Of time travels and misadventures,

Of  metaphor, oxymoron, and simile,

Of saddest lines, of two cities, of two families and odyssey, 

Of words, like skyscrapers, masterfully built,

Taking you places while holding you still,

That momentary arrythmia, holding you prisoner,

Pulling you in convincing you to another page,

She reminds me of hallways,

Of empty eerily quiet hallways,

Where all you can hear is your own heartbeat,

Or your own breathing,

Or your own footsteps,

And maybe hers,

But faintly, at a distance,

Pulling you in for a glance,

She reminds me of the universe,

And all its beauty,

She reminds me of the world,

And all its lunacy,
She reminds me,

And maybe that's all she is, a reminder,

That sometimes beauty can be in all places,

In all places but here.