You were my song in summers past
Where the bracken thinned to white
Of Queen Anne’s lace over gorges fast
Against age and speech alike
–
The rocks fell into canyons whose
Every fingertip we could climb
Up to the nests of red hawks loosed
To heaven’s twilit design
–
Our paths were ever lighted by
Your head of strawberry gold
That brought us home through nights and winters
Through forests thick, and marshes cold
–
We have lost those vistas sweeping
Where sand and sun danced intricacies
Strange and fanciful as novels
Stranger still in memory
–
And your hair fades darker now
More of the earth than gold
Yet at times we do remember
And always the stories hold
Serial Outlet 