When I get old, and wrinkles carve their claws into the hills of my visage
like a thousand deep, rich streams, abundant with the hidden treasure of time
promise me you’ll listen
When knots twist my soft-stemmed knees into gnarled branches,
hum the melody of my almond brown eyes and taste the
saltwater kiss of my memories
Touch my folded eyelids with your finger
like a phantom of the boldest ray of sunshine
spreading its warmth as a roaming flame
and teach me the way to dance beneath the golden canopies of autumn
remind me how sweet your breath smelled in the rain
place my shrunken fingers to the soft pages of a journal
and let me draw from it crystalline moments
that sparkle in my half-lit, moonlit, mind
And I’ll remember…
Yet the tears will be merely drops of dew on pink peonies
and rings of laughter, only bell chimes on the wind
Your smile will be Orion to me, and your love, the affection of a star-eyed lover
Then let me go…
and make a wish on my life as on the wisp of a dandelion
and then I’ll soar, ever-floating, evermore.
sovere1@stolaf.edu
