I knew you before, in the large brick house. Was it brick, I think it was. Was it ours? I see it over and over, when I close my eyes. Only glimpses, of the past. There were trees and land, and some fencing that I can see. There was a creek to the left side of the house. I can see the creek, the water running over the rocks.
I knew you before. This time I saw a child, maybe two years old. Girl or boy, I could not tell. It was only a minute, a gentle moment. The child was walking around close to us, curly hair, light brown. We were laughing as we stood close together watching.
I knew you before, this I have known since the day I looked up and saw you. Little glimpses of things are all that I am given. But then, that is more than many ever get to see. Many questions remain, most of which may never be answered, at least not for now. But I know this, as I watch you sleep, in a dream I am given, a quiet contentment surrounds me. For if I knew you before, and have found you, then I can wait for the day, no matter how long, when I will know you again.