Reflection

In honor of National Poetry Month, I thought I'd recycle an old one of mine to which I can still relate:


Looking through the glass,
I find you backlit by the setting sun:
the far-off breeze
that gently
lifts the skirts
of willow trees
rustles pages of your
half-read book,
touches on your picnic
packed for one.

The early evening calls of
nesting birds -
the quiet murmur
from a pond;
the picture-polished
peace
tears an ache inside
and leaves no room for words.

“Mom, did you sew -?”
“Where’s my shoe?”
“Honey, I invited- ”
“Didn’t you pick up-?”
“Can you finish-?”
“Why didn’t you-?”
“I’m sorry”
“I need you”
“Hold me”
“Hear me”
“I-promised-you’d-make-two-dozen-
chocolate-chip-muffins-for-school-
tomorrow”
“I love you”
“Good-night”

You look at me and wipe a tear:
I look at you and in my
chaos, sigh.
But who is in the glass-suspended wish?
and is the Dreamer you -
or is it I?


C. Shaw copyright 2001