"No One...Just Someone I Used To Know"

I still think of her.

Not in a way that
form, or scent, or warmth are missed
but in a way that nostalgia consumes
the soul.

It and she float in and out like
a hummingbird, swing, or summer breeze.
There one moment
and the next
removed.

I hear a music and I picture us on
porches,
late at night speaking
of our deepest artfulness
and imagined eloquence.

I sit here and smile now
because our ideas
were so big and our abilities
small.

But we dreamed like children.
We loved like animals.
We gave like mothers
and we died like martyrs.

She lives on a farm now
with goats I believe.

With dreams only hers
there among the hills, goats, and grace
with love for someone new.


I still think of her at times

here among the ocean, gulls, and nostalgia.