Wednesday, September 12, 2018

From the Distant Iridescence

For N. P.


From the distant iridescence of my memory,
Faces glow, then fade as lives are lost;
Asters with a hue of dusk return to me,
The cedared Wakefield hillsides gleam with frost.
In the distant iridescence of my memory,
Two falling stars burned pathways that we crossed.

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