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I see the color of your hair in the red and brown wings of the sparrow on my windowpane
Your lips in the crepe mrytles across the way
Your voice, that I never heard, clearly through the mourning dove's refrain
Your body, the magnolia flower, smooth and delicate, against the violent heat of day
The blue fabric flowing from you hair like the heron across the pond drifting aimlessly
And when the sunlight glints over the river that flows from your mount, through my trees
Your shimmering light tears the veil of holocene
I can see the all of us that never came to be
From that glorious day when when your presence and grace first reached out and touched me
Olivia, my sweet anthropocene
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- 2 months ago
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