A Silver Serenade
The window tells an autumn tale of winter close behind,
reflects a face once free of pain with clearer, childlike eyes.
I spent spring days like silver coins to purchase memories.
At eventide we’d hide-n-seek or wander where we please.
From tromping endless fields of grass and carving cypress bark,
to playing touch with pony-tails, stealing kisses in the park.
The whiteness of her summer dress, I recall with bows of blue,
And rustles yet beyond that glass in phantom interlude.
Hands that held the others warmth while needing nothing more,
somehow became unclasped, somewhere, in reaching, fell too short.
Those days unwind like a movie reel, I review that film in tears.
It seems I’m simply borrowing dreams through the pane of youthful years.
SS Matthews © 11/1/00