Vignette

She was as fearless
as a lioness
prowling in a
sub-Saharan savanna;
it was the last time
I saw her whole.
Like a dream,
the world I knew
evaporated
into tiny particles of dust,
making it impossible
to hold on - to the past.

*
We were young
and the seeds
of cynicism
had not yet been
planted
�" our existence grew
in the roots
of impulse and idealism.
We owned the moment,
and that’s all
that mattered.

*
Sometimes
I miss her
so much
that I kayak
across the peninsula,
chasing her memory
in a storm.
I close my eyes
and imagine
that she is
somewhere
�" beyond the clouds
�" beyond the thunder
�" beyond the rain
smiling down on me.

Reviews

[Patricia Wedel]

dear kd... beautiful poetry... I have been in a canoe
at night with beams of moonlight through the trees...
reflected on the water. Now his memory is beyond
the thunder and the rain. truly... Pat