Recall October 31, 2002 |
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Memory, a dappled orchard where the apples glow the brightest: When the world its shoulders arches overhead and vaults us in, You, a tender yolk suspended yellow in the azure shell; I, a whisper subtly woven from the strands of flowing winds— We are lips and we are eardrums, breath departing, words arriving Floating slowly through the ether, drifting where the currents take us. And the years are like octaves, scales descending down the keyboard And the visions are like droplets hanging from the tips of leaves Your reflections gleaming, sparkling, fractal faces, drifting voices And my hands are frail and trembling as I pour from pen to paper Things I saw or just imagined, sitting in the slanted sunlight… |
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