--for Megan
Observe what emerges, what disappears;
the road behind us, rutted and railed
Remember the glee & fear in holding hands
in letting go, in grasping
the beams--
From one hungry assurgent moment to the next: Observe
I made the world my playground; you followed
I danced in words and made music; you called it Art
Turn now, and dance.
By memory, by turning leaf, by the cold wet patina of tears
I will always know you
By the thousand notes of flail, the million unsent kisses
say I was the gardener of the soul
that the soil I tilled flourished and say I was a simple man
who had a small role in your shimmering permanence.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
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1 comment:
Painfully good, Tre.
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