The picture of her in my head when she's sitting ten metres away, and I know the exact expression which will be on her face when I look up. Just because I've known her for so damn long, and there's no way I can rub out her image etched on my mind. We might no longer talk, but the conversations we have in my dreams are enough.
Having to stop and read a poem again, just so you can hear it one more time resounding over and over amongst the twists and turns of your head.
The film I play to myself in my mind where I run, faster each time, down to the end of the green, green field at sunset, and knowing I will never have another field to run in simply because I am no longer a child.
Watching her turn and run from me. Even though I know I will never see her again, my heart is beating so fast that I just know it is about to implode. Nobody's heart bothers with such mundane things as distance. They know what they want, and at that very moment, mine knows that watching her kick up a sandstorm over the burning ground, her knee-length dress twisting and spinning about her legs, her bare feet carrying her away, is the most beautiful thing in the world.