Catching Sight of Our Bay
Against a dome where moonlight gleams,
bushes quiver and clear waters drift --
that in this land of the pine
where forest trails meet, I descry
the mystic bay slither with intimacies
of our lost youth, of our love breathing:
The evening climbs as if I need not grow old--
for dreams take me back, memorizing how
we rolled through the fields, down through the vine.
Quietly , I discover the wonder that flows
from our town river, shimmering once more.
With the thrill of a new dawn ,
yesteryear’s affection lures me where I
still belong ... while you, my dear
fade behind night’s shadows.
Rob Carmack's Contest: Decry
5/24/2017
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