In The Failing Memories Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Awash in the glories of a hidden sanctuary,
The sun beating down its feisty gold,
I carried you out into the waves and your tiny brown
Body conformed to me, having to trust because
You could not swim,
As afterwards I settled down with you and kissed your
Mouth in the shade of a shelter,
Making out while the lifeguards were turned away towards
I see that I compared your beauty to, Alma,
As we drove toward her: calm as
A hospital that has gone to sleep cradling all of its wounded
Men,
Like a blue kite who has found a gentle elephant to kid too;
And your beauty is still there:
Motionlessly building, counting the unbearable stars
Even while your consciousness lies away,
Cradled in your senses, maybe remember Mexico and all of
The steps that it took to come here again,
Like a butterfly who decided to change one last time
And to return to the homes of its shed bodies, following the
Footpaths unrequitedly printed in the unfailing memories
Of my love, knowing that yourself is all that it concerns.