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A Visit to Poetria

Looking for a reason
To draw out dinner time
A little longer
I couldn’t help but notice
The yellowish leaf in the dark
That came down gently from the sky
And settled in above the glass
In the corner of the windshield–
Reminding me of her

I saw her in my mind’s eye this morning
Glancing at the flowers being offered
At the little outdoor stand, nestled in a cubbyhole
Of a corner building in the pleasantest part
Of the City

She had come and gone
While I wasn’t there
Outside my bodily orbit
But not my mind

In Poetria
Everyone leaves a trail of words behind
Which turn to images
In the minds of those willing
To turn their mental clocks back one lyrical hour
In the poetic mode

And so she was there
A kind of Amelia Earhart not of the air
But of the emotions
Twisting slightly back and forth
Doing a little dance with the wind
On the sidewalk
And not knowing about the pleasant
Greenery up ahead in the grassy park
Next to the empty cathedral

On summer days the parkgoers sunbathe, then later
In the still brightly lit afternoons of the fall
Walkers can still bathe in the wind
As it seeps by, invisibly
But definitely so
So says my mind’s eye