Eidetic

There was a little more snow then.
It shows clearly, in the picture.
Otherwise this all looks the same,

As if someone walked up behind
A tattered portrait of themselves
Aligning faces carefully,

The breathing person congruent
With the torn representation.
Living presence fills the details

That the memory had let slip.
Yes, that was how your eyes looked then,
Dark over sun-struck sandstone cheeks.

There was no single incident.
You’ve come back again and again.