It was my birthday a few weeks ago: I wish you could have been there. We went to the Greek restaurant, to remind us of the birthday I had in Xanthos. Do you remember? I bet you do: especially that evening we went for a long walk, just the two of us, when the moon was shining and the world was silver and blue.

And anniversaries? Today, in fact: the second. Such a short eternity.

Anniversaries and memories. I'm lying here, surrounded by visions of you, voices and smells and sweet conversations. I'm lying here, my love 3;

" 3;and I'll lie here forever."

It's the littlest things, strangely enough, which make me miss you most. I was walking down the street the other day and saw a boy, same age as you, and handsome enough, in that self absorbed way of young men, but as he walked he raised his arm and curled his fingers through his hair, flattening it back against his skull: just the way you always do. It made me shiver. For an instant, there you were.

The littlest things: walking by the river on a summer's day, alone and happy. Through the trees I saw a heron, perched by the water on long, stiff legs, spectacular in black and white. I stopped to watch. It was studied and serious, and its sombre plumage seemed to suit it. Just like you, I thought. And the unselfconscious way it conducted its business, the very lack of artifice, made it more beautiful than anything I could imagine. I wanted to touch it, to hold it in my hands.

"If your hands were in mine I'd be sure they would not sever."

Oh, that silver night in Xanthos. Your hands were warm, pressed to mine, and we talked all night, from moon to sun, silver to gold; what plans we made, such plans, such dreams, the progress of our lives foretold. Your hands in mine, and cheek to cheek, breeze in my hair, your breath on my lip, we danced, we danced, a silent dance, a lovers' waltz, a carefree chance. And we kissed in the day and swore we'd stay, together forever.

Chance. Such a curious word - it means both fortune and misfortune, an opportunity and a risk. Our grand affair, our carefree chance: whither the lovers in the lovers' dance? It wasn't to be, my brightness: forever came too soon.

Two years apart, and still I miss you more than you could know. Two years - just a moment in time, a beat of the heart. And only a beat of the heart lies between us.

And now, as gentle rain descends, it's time to say goodnight.