Friend, Eigg dweller, talented poet and fellow wood tiger Ailidh Morrison responded with this  . . .  

It is as if, time had not passed
Nor moved your face from mine
Though thundering waves denote a different season passing
As yet I am still
Inside our time

Rain wreaks havoc on a muddied window pane
Yet my sunwarmed skin
shines beneath the layers of woollen comfort
olfactory senses seek out the bright tinge of green leaves
as wind blasted debris fly by my sight

Illusionary this ‘passing’ of time
for I am still everyday my Self
you are still everyday your Self
Our Selves

External images collated from optic to nerves to sight to truth?
all changes
yet
A pumping beating organ staccatos thoughts on you and I
red rouged the re-living of our synchronistic beat
how foolish to think at all,
in terms of minutes hours and days
When heartbeats tell truthful tales of a real time
dancing always in arms held ready
easily succumbing to an inner metronome
of conjoined experience
for time is not linear but held now in all planes
the possibilities of everywhen
rhythmically creating our days.