A stranger

In the Summer she plays
breathless,
wild eyed and hair unbound,
wind combed,
    In the garden;
Beneath the orange plastic washing lines,
kaleidoscopic, insipid skies
behind the long since dormant truck,
by door mice 'neath the water trough,
under
  cover of her youth.

She moves barefoot,
reckless,
      fevered,
to unheard music she dances
  Amidst trees she hums and sings
the mornings song,
A love without the promise of romance,
less false, her movements true, unfaltering
Over grass slick with dew,
  insects neither bite nor sting;
she dances with them too.

He watches her from the window,
   in the child's room
where the man now stands in view.
In a sudden shower she has stopped
and looked, amused
  She laughs at him, her face wet,
her dark eyes shining, yet not for him,
her figure waves and calls, over the drummed tin roof
through the rattled leaves, it pulls him in.

Beckoning.

For a time he forgets; distance
missed chances,  thorns of regret,
snared threads of hope,
time after, time before,
forgets place and circumstance
forgets the world,
  and then a glance back to the stairs
every step instills a fear,
that by the time he reaches the bottom

she will no longer be there.

Just the same loneliness.  

In the distance
from the empty yard
the fair will move, and be motionless
for a lifetime of recollection
full and empty moments
move nowhere, and yet find us everywhere.
A lifetime of regret is a lifetime of aspiration
for even simple things that stop and snare,
constantly aware of the mirrors,
the eyes, that reflect the world.

The memory that burns in time
and in the flesh, is a memory only
in time, that is, that we are
in possession of nothing,
only in agreement do we reflect upon
each other,  the flicker of mirror
on mirror, the world a kaleidoscope
of measured fates.

      In the abandonment of destiny
we cannot wait.

I cannot wait.

In the summer she dances,

                  for everyone.