by cricketjeff on February 19, 2011. © Jeff Green, All rights reserved
And heard a skylark sing about the moon;
Her eager lips were sips of vintage wine,
To savour on a winter afternoon.
She painted leaves on every naked tree
And long dead roses bloomed beneath her gaze.
The copper shone despite the verdigris
On ancient roofs that rose above the haze.
And even now her radiance remains,
Like vintage wine she casts away the years.
Still eager lips can kiss away the pains,
Her artists eyes disguise impending fears.
From when we met until I have to die
I’ll bless the day she taught me how to fly.