I sat down on the grass above you.
The dew drops drooping as I delicately
Drew my hand across
Your stone head;
the way I used to
run my fingers
Through your dark hair.
I, staring into your name, almost
Saw your green eyes shine
through the etched, gray letters.
“I owe you an apology and confession.”, I said.
“On January 5th as John the Revelator
was mistranslating your verse and
carrying you to Apollo‘s gates;
my cupid was misfiring his own bow.”
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