Sometimes I lose all sense of you
You change yet never do
Sometimes you wear the soft-blurred cloth of mist
Sometimes clear blue
And sometimes you are summer’s tree
Embellishing the dark
With leaf-song, sometimes you are silhouettes of something
Stripped and stark
Sometimes you fill the sky with sighs
Akin to pain
And sometimes you slip by in flower-shaped good-byes
Sometimes you drain
The pen of poetry; sometimes you fill the quill;
it overflows
In madrigals of ecstasy the color
Of a rose
Sometimes I reach but cannot touch
The Thing I’m living for
While you brush back my hair and dare
My heartbeat to explore
The curve and verve and trace of you
Sometimes I cannot tell
Who are you? Time,
Or are you love
Or simply its farewell?
© Janet Martin
