spring
Patricia's painting.
She is gone, but on my wall
Is with me still
And we are young
And spilling laughter
Floating like blossom in the breeze
Of Hyde Park in spring.
A path unfolds its way,
Destination unknown.
Figures faint and indistinct
Perambulate the gravel,
And my spirit, caught by the painting
On my wall
Leaps to the past,
A bird soaring from a cage,
Feeling the breeze
Lifting my hair
Dancing through trees
Heavy with leaves and history,
Fluttering a heart
Tricked by the weight of years
Into old age.
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