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

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

a steamy gloom
envelopes
embraces
all

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
array

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

06/13/2016