I'm unsure why most folks don't know this fact so quickly & modestly observed. Just look deeply into each bloom, each leaf and the container containing them. It's akin to savoring a menu. It's right there looking into the gestures on a page. Preferably made by ink or lead. The state of blooming is a seasonal birthright.
As if in a lit up station up in Montreal
ReplyDeletewhere we once spent the new year's first dawn
I recall a moment of knowing exactly who and what
I was to become ten years hence. I di not tell you
because you would not want to know you were not part
of the future. We would wander around the world together
for such a long time, and then we would not be there,
drinking a small cold beverage, or looking up at the sun
before a walk. You would not be laughing at something you heard, and I would not be listening to the radio.
We would not have the same houses or the same clothes or the same preferences for dinner on the town.
On that sweet winter day when we were so young
I had to hide the very winter inside me
as we strolled along the icy river, hand in hand.