I found her, the other day.

A fragment from a time machine,

a memory, a faithful friend.

We reminisced of distant times.

The fun we had, those dances stepped.

The blare of lights, the shades of sounds,

music lost to other moods.

 

She was not as she used to be

but then I too had walked the miles.

She was still young, while I am old.

I do not move the way she can.

Clouds whispered of thoughts adrift,

the scenes of youth, of velvet nights,

of stars that spoke and moons that sighed,

and sand that sang to tune of wind.

 

Old friend, I thought, you still are lithe.

You sway in breeze, you waft, you step,

you speak softly of youth and dance,

you speak of long ago.

You speak of legs, brown from the sun,

of hair bleached clean, of shoeless feet.

of red lipped smiles, of melting eyes

of hands that sang of ears that sighed.

 

I found you and you smiled at me,

you did not speak, there was no need,

You being there was quite enough.

A small black dress, just hanging free!

 
 

David Garlick, Sidney, July, 2007