A fit of melancholy

I lose track these days of how you grow
how tall you seem
to others

Our closeness blinds me to changes
also distance
readily see

The eye
I call inner
has images of you
no photograph captured
and your youth in this world
fools me into thinking
I can remember
it sees

But then
in twenty years
the occasion will come
when real photos
true videos
paraded forth
into that future
will make me weep
for this now
with you
so long gone
no longer there
in my memory

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Leaving a Leaping Thought's worth