The wind plays seamstress
flaring your white gown and veil
with temperate ease.
You float
between apple trees
reciting fragrance

while the sun glistens
in fresh-squeezed light
over the grass.

You come early
costumed like a bride
of lapsed thought

haunting the first dreams
of morning.

And when he wakes
alone
reaching for a woman’s hand,

you fade
to leaf shadows
caressing a window ledge
of stone.


Top          Life          Home