Memory (mèm´e-rê)

What keeps morphing

in the half light of morning

is your shadow ( a body

made of water ( a river

flowing through me

like childhood

Octaves dancing

on my soft

limbs

. . .

Occasionally

pearls of tear drop

& roll onto my lips

where the past resurrected

and that’s all I have now

You

:

an eternal river

taking all my

sorrows

away

*

*

zz