The Last Time

The last time I did anything meaningful

You and I were sitting

on the edge of an isolated pond

on a warm Spring day speaking in foiled

careful words  about our future.                                                           

 

We sipped green tea

from earthly potted mugs

while savoring sesame seed butter

spread over earth-scorched toast.

 

We patiently read Rumi

and Maya to each other.

 

Your voice spoke just above the whisper

of a serenely blowing breeze

as the edges of your tone 

touched the spine of every leaf.

 

You needed that afternoon

to declare you would never

ever leave home again.

 

Even though the heavy blanket

of our unheeded vows

garnished sorrow and disappointment

it carried no gravity that day.

 

I was with peace in your firm hands.

 

You felt secure knowing

the future would somehow

always include US.

This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741