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Quarter past three
The clouds are plums and peaches,
The sky is cream.
You have violet eyes.

The lake is oil splashed with silver
Frost and mist hang in the air,
The room is smudged with darkness
But you have violet eyes.

My heart holds onto a secret
I’ll give it wings and let it fly
Perhaps though, I might keep it,
You have violet eyes.

The sun swallowed the rain
Through the bitter touch of the breeze
That must be a rainbow, so pale in the sky
Because you have violet eyes.

The pages of the newspaper
Cascade from the fourth floor window.
I didn’t want to read it;
Someone had written
That you had violet eyes.

We walked together down the lane
Pitch black and still,
The leaves rustling at my feet
But your step was so gentle,
You did not disturb them.

We visited the church one Sunday
In the hazy hours of November morning,
And someone had dedicated
A blank statue to your beauty.

I held your glass in my hand
You did not take a sip,
You looked to me
And I held onto you so tightly
As I told them you have violet eyes.

They crowded around me
Told me that they had not forgotten
Such a surge of people!
Your fingers drifted from my hand
And when I looked up you had gone.
Death dawns through a subtle shift in tense...
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October 30, 2006
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