So quickly gone our perfect day,
softly fading in ombre gray;
we loved, lying in grasses sweet,
mist mountain shrouded and discreet.
Pink pearled the clouds like china clay--
so quickly gone our perfect day--
dangled above the mountain rim;
pearled the wine kisses I offered him.
We strolled hay scented meadows, fair;
he laced white daisies through my hair;
so quickly gone our perfect day
for night swooped down, dark bird of prey.
Sometimes a day almost like that
makes me wistful, heart acrobat
contriving to return that way,
so quickly gone our perfect day.
Copyright, January 23, 2016
Categories:
hay scented, lost love,
Form: Quatern