The Way She Went
I watched her fade away
her fabric was rinsed too much,
beaten against a stone too much.
it had bleached her out of herself.
The paint of her presence
has bled away in the sunlight
she has become almost indiscernible.
I knew her when I was a boy
she was so alive, electrified
with vitality.
Every eye sparkled that looked her way.
No one should dry-up and blow away
in slow motion like this.
Yet that older lady was still a girl
behind a tattered yellowing gauze
of surrender.
I recall her dancing lightly
over the roof of my mind
I only wish she had flown higher,
dared herself to fall even.
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