Winter's Green

Winter's Green


1.

I want to quit
thinking about what I had
when I found you,
and what we were
together.

Even more,
all the things
we didn’t get to see.
Mountains that are more than hills,
walking beaches where man first flew,
the moments just before we would join
sea and sun in morning’s first kiss,
during our first Atlantic sunrise
together.

We shared both castles and cabins,
we saw rain and sky,
black bears huddled in fake rock cages,
and fake leopards hugging rocky thighs.
We smiled at one
and quietly laughed at the other.
Together.



2.

I didn’t get to see the cool green of my ocean
blend into the warm green of your eyes,
we didn’t have the music of the beach
or a summer moon under which to dance.
People would have fun watching us
teach each other our favorite dance,
we would probably laugh at the way they
smiled.

What we knew was the cool of late winter,
and yet somehow you could see
not just potential
but beauty in what was there.
All of which made you even more beautiful
as I caught a small glimpse inside of you, and
smiled.


I can’t help but want more
sometimes-
I can see us
standing beneath Hatteras' stripes
with dawn reflecting in your eyes,
as I await the sun's rise from the water
to slowly lift my lips from yours, hoping
Triolina saw us and
smiled.



3.

The colors of life
are carried in my dreams, and
are dominated by shades of green -
of growth?
Or maybe they represent
my unwillingness to give up
hope.

Green would be a hard color
to never see again.
I still have a star beside my bed -
at night it shares its glowing green
and memories of you.
Maybe,
someday you will return
to see how it dimly offers up soft
hope.

Sometimes green looks almost black -
like when the sun goes down
and trees begin to blend day
into night - until only blackness and,
the wait for a new day remain.
The sameness of each day without you
strips the green from the next, as
every tomorrow is a darker shade of today,
and in every shadow cast is seen less
hope.