Saturday, May 24, 2014
I stand upon the sliding pebble shore
And stare across the river at the falls;
The thunder spray, the red-wing blackbird's calls,
Can only reinforce the silence more.
The river foam, confetti on the floor
Of some glass ballroom where the spotted walls
No longer swirl with dancing, turns and crawls
And shrinks away, as love had shrunk before.
Yet still I feel my gratitude entwine
With every living memory of your guise;
I hear your voice, a recollected line
That leads my thoughts from darkness to the skies;
I feel the coolness of your hand on mine,
I see the moon reflected in your eyes.
-- Saturday, May 24, 2014.