by Peter Humphreys

by Schiller park
I thought we'd meet
for first
and last

who cares
as children play
'side the fish less pond
and clouds huddle past
awaiting thunder

a steamy gloom

I look twixt and twain
from first to last
as swallows sweep
past my head
in mocking rapture

a gentle breeze
disturbs the pond
mirroring the flowers above
in medieval glass

I see her now
my distant love
her long exotic robe
of plum and lace
her golden hair

I rise
I wave
she smiles

but only I can see
for dead she be
these years past
since Schiller wrote
for her not me
our song of rapturous love


Author's Note: The second in my series of impressions set in an east German town

Posted on 06/13/2016
Copyright © 2023 Peter Humphreys

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 06/14/16 at 04:08 PM

A subtle mix of past and present, an ordinary day with a touch of magic and hope. Thank you.

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