Listening With You Tonight to a Mozart Sonata Somehow Makes Me Think of When I was Very Young
I am minded
of the bell metaled gleam that welled
those so-gold-that-they-
were-purple cups
at Patty and Susie’s–the important
things–
the pale smell of mown lawn, greened
knees–
the scree
of yet another hill whose slippery stones
one managed (racing) to climb
when one was me and
you weren’t even you yet–my you–
unknown, but loved,
with every gilded swallow
and step-found stone–
in the way this run grows into
this other run
as symmetry turns
towards the sun;
in the way that blue rests.
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Very much of a draft poem, posted for With Real Toads Open Platform.
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