Along The Windless Street

After the bull fights were over,
Long shadows led us,
Over the cobble stone streets,
Narrow and crowded with tourists,
Going and coming like a colorful ebb tide.

This is my best Spanish memory,
Hugging tight, standing on a busy sidewalk.
Erika smiles, flashing eyes so soft.

We had come to this land,
In the care of the United States Military,
Needing to train in a foreign place.
Details of the trip remain classified.
Leaders of the world have come and gone since.
Erika has married and moved away.
Still my mind is there now,
Spanish faces, places, and us together.

Some day I will pull out pictures,
Tainted by finger prints, time and distance.
Reminiscing may be different faced with Kodak quality.
Eighteen hours of flights and airports,
Erika and I talked of the now, never a future.
The windless street a warm memory.