Time is the space between the small places, the moments we call now and here is the place and time of our memory as one together.

I would like to take a falling autumn leaf and press it in the pages of my life, a memory of what was and can never again be, a time that ebbs and flows, ebbs and flows, ebbs and flows, like the dappled sunlit water rippling gently at the edge of the great blue sea.

I would like to take a lock of your jet black hair and press it in the pages of my life, a memory of the place that is now and a time will always be.

I would like to take a tear and press it in the pages of my life, a memory of what will come to pass in the moment of time that is here and the place that is now.

Come fill me now with your memory, a leaf, a lock of hair, a tear and time will move the spaces between the moments, yet the place will always remain in the moments between the spaces of our time.