In her walks through the
wooded forest,
March sun happened that day
crisp trees
utterable breeze
winding stream,
shadows fell a bit shorter
cast of light

She put her hand on a favorite tree,
its smile touched
a young face…
barefooted, felt the forest floor
chainsaws with handfuls of sawdust
on their teeth,
workmen chewing bark
silent lumber,
neither the scent of pine
nor oak.

Years later, her legs quite longer, 
closed eyes
holding hands,
boardwalk summer
air full of amusement rides 
and quarters
hearts falling,
board with spijkers deep,
died, alive again today when it
felt her touch,
smiled again.

Copyright © 04/19/2014 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®


2 comments on “Remembrance

  1. I could feel the sun on her back as the winter’s cold nipped at her shoulders when she was a maturing girl, years passed and a return brings a mature lady with beauty & grace! Loved it!

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