"reflections on the sunbeams dancing upon the hardwood floor..."

reflections on the sunbeams dancing
upon the hardwood floor...

it's been a long time since
that bright summer morning, when
the birds chirped so loudly
and the sky seemed to go on

there was a small flower
bluer than the sky;
blue as the depths of his eyes
that seemed to know me better
than I knew myself.

how warm his hand was when
the dew still rested on the fields;
the sound of the wind whispering
of the passing night
and the coming day.

I don't remember the hour
nor the day.
I know I wore green to match
my eyes;
I remember he noticed
my eyes;
not the dress.
I will never forget how he looked at me.

how strange that some things you
never forget,
and yet
can never really remember?

never has there been a time since
when the sun shone so
or the birds sang so
I don't think
there ever will be



2005 Copyright held by the author.



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