Fleeting.

The perfect things,

that picture taken just right;

the best sunrise ever;

when you cross the bridge on a foggy morning

and it's like driving over white air.

The things that song reminded you of;

the way he looked at you;

just the right lyrics that said how you feel;

the way you felt when that book ended and you cried.

The best Christmas you had,

lights and love and laughter;

the jokes shared with that person you don't even smile at anymore;

that letter you wrote so well.

Where does all that go

when you die?