Please.

Can I have
your face and voice,
a place of our own,
footsteps,
afternoon sun drawing lines between us,
music and wine,
colour of some sort,
the skin behind your ear,
a shape to hold.

If its too much to ask -
a yellowing letter
to trace the dot of your i,
an old shirt or
even a forgotten promise,
a folded picture
of a younger you and me
smiling or no,
would do as well -

Anything more than
this pang and missed beat
to hold onto.