by Michael R. Burch
There was a moment
suspended in time like a swelling drop of dew about to fall,
impendent, pregnant with possibility ...
when we might have made ...
anything we dreamed,
almost anything at all,
coalescing dreams into reality.
Oh, the love we might have fashioned
out of a fine mist and the nightly sparkle of the cosmos
and the rhythms of evening!
But we were young,
and what might have been is now a dark abyss of loss
and what we have left is not worth saving.
But, oh, you were lovely,
child of the wild moonlight, attendant tides and doting stars,
and for a day ...
what little we partook
of all that lay before us seemed so much,
and passion but a force
with which to play.
Keywords/Tags: child, children, childhood, time, possibility, dreams, love, passion, force, play, mist, fog, sparkle, cosmos, moonlight, tides, stars