With you I always saw the potted palms
Marble floors and Chinese jardinieres
Polished ancient oak and well-worn arms
Of venerable tufted leather chairs.
Curious how your face evoked the glow
Of firelight and candles in old brass!
When I knew you, the wine had ceased to flow,
And so I have no love for Irish glass.
But crewel and damask ~ spices from the East ~
Herbal tea and pottery Quimper
Feed my sorrow, as my my eyes do feast
On relics left from life within your care.
O, dearest, gentle one, you were the Past ~
A waking dream ~ a joy that could not last.
~ FreeThinke - November 3, 1984