Saturday, October 12, 2019
A Memory––poem by Dorothy
NOTE: Blogger no longer allows me to post entries with correct line breaks and spacing. It runs all the text together and creates a terrible post. I have inserted / marks to indicate line breaks for this poem.
A Memory
You were young enough then/
to sleep with Yeats/
under your pillow,/
have dreams of the lost garden/
filled with sacred animals,/
archetypal beasts.
Sometimes you talked in your sleep/
and I answered, often not/
with words./
You said child poems of your own making,/
or spoke as spirits passing through.
Things happened/
that were unexpected,/
the spirit cat that came,/
our card layouts each the other's/
in reverse,/
the uncanny tarot telepathic exchange./
It was bliss just to be in your presence,/
to sense your auric field./
Now we each have gone our separate ways,/
never see nor communicate/
one with the other./
You a retiree and world traveler,/
me a writer dedicated to the task./
Yet I sometimes think/
of how it was/
when we were together/
and you were so very young./
Dorothy Walters
October 12, 2019
