Pale light shines through the trees causing your silhouette to glow and pulse with the movement of the forested hillside. I watch you and wonder to myself if you could possibly understand the peace, instability and radiant joy that your presence brings to this pilgrim's soul. Your gentle smile, your calming eyes seem to be all that is left of you in the darkness engulfing me. I can see them though and it is enough. Night falls, light fails, and I stay focused on you. When the fog lifts, I know you will be there. Under the oak, next to my dew-wetted pack lies a flowering ivy that looks a little like you. I draw it in my notebook a memory of what used to be, and still is, infinitely you; Flowers in the morning gloom.