When I was a child I remember,
there was a memory of kindness,
a sort of rite of passage,
whereby she left me with a smile.
I remember wishful then,
the forever summer nights,
she laughed outloud
and we danced as forever might.
There is a quiet reality in love,
the dawning of an understanding,
that eternally above
all other conclusions must remain.
I remember the soft dawn of summer,
a child in a constant stir,
finding my reality,
I spoke of her until the autumn.
I would today respond to a soft
reckoning of a spiritual gain,
when life becomes the real,
sort of intellectual game.
I recall tender the night sky,
when in the cold autumn breeze,
our gasps created pictures,
we lived inside our dreams.
When I recall the quiet noise of morn
The days I pine, the darker eyes that loom
Ask less my mind, for when I in a gloom
It is the sky I seek to slow forlorn
The memory a haunt of sorrow found,
As lives we sow are asked to further go.
Beyond the real of the love we know
Is sunlight sure to welcome saner ground.
In between slats of home a golden air
Bemuse fear of letting go, losing her
For it is beautiful the morning stir
Of golden leaves – descend summer’s ware.
So when in the morning sun I wake alone
Her elegance in brilliant sky be shown.