R is for Restore . . .

I wish I had a button
marked restore
somewhere nearby, 
a simple set point
that would take me back
to certain moments in time:
our first kiss at 3 am
that night we got locked in 
at Ghiradelli Square;
or just holding your hand as we walked
along the wetlands near our house,
the red-winged blackbirds marking spring;
or that moment you sang Brahm's lullaby
when our daughter was born,
and you can't sing.
That point in time wouldn't have to be
memorable. I would start all over again
and cherish each day.

Allen and Beth
Los Angeles, 1975