Almost

Staring at the starting line,

halfway up the mountain,

before the final curve,

And forgetting why I'm there.

You waiting behind a hill,

letting sun blind me,

walking past you,

wondering at the scent of lavender

which reminds me of beaches and Spain.

Perpetual amnesia

a gentle good night,

unending grey

never flashing lightning.

Flat lines stretching on into infiniti,

Danish landscapes for miles.