Apr/May 2005 Poetry Special Feature


by Barbara De Franceschi


I thought I saw you
in the overgrown grass
bending to the mower blades.

Verdant tuffs overlapping
cement borders
was your mustache
sneaking over a thin top lip.

Those carnival eyes so bright,
essential to your moods of persuasion,
roamed the flower beds,
an impudent wink amongst petunia petals.

I thought I saw you in the rain drops
splashing against the stucco swirls
on the garden wall. They were my tears
and the roughness of your unshaven cheeks.

I thought I saw you in every cloud
hanging from a blue balcony
but I was wrong.
The simple nature of things was never you.


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