The old person
Looking at you
From across the
way
I see in your
garden
The last
honeysuckle
Behind your youthful
ear
As you were 20
Unable to see nearly
Five decades gone
Stretched by hearts
So great
Time’s sheet folded
Upon itself
Have I rolled
Closer to you
Along a field stretched
Quantum thin tight
To touch
The fine hair on your neck
Near the honeyed blossom
To sip
You once again?
The single flower left from a dry summer reaches out, you see the lone bloom within the sun burnt branches. I pick the lovely scented, bright yellow orange bloom and put it in my hair. Your eyes touched, witness the vast and blessed time of our love.
ReplyDeleteOh! My Dear Constance!
ReplyDelete