Her Name Was Joanne

In Springtime I kiss you by the river and the band

That plays carries a tune that the dancing trees in bloom seem to echo.

We are so carefree in the night as the breeze on our cheeks revives our dreams

In the moonlight as we walk with your wind-fluffed hair besides me we talk

And by the water's edge we find a rocky place that seems just ours.

Your name I whisper again as the scent of you brings a new thrill. Still,

It was almost a quarter century ago. We emerge from bushes and we see

Above shadow trees and flashed on carbon skies a single man-made dome in light

From nearby Babylon and I say to you we will remember this. And yes,

I have in moments worlds away when in the midst of work or play at the sight

Of such a dome- and even that one- revisited for a moment your sweetness.

In cooled towers from glass windows I smile on the city skyline and remember.

I remember your first name and your clear laugh and the instant

We first held hands while watching the glowing horizon from a window.

I was living with another. She and I felt so distant from each other and because

Of youth, lets say, or immaturity or whatever harsher words we could cast,

Knew it would not last but faster than the speeding sun we saw time fly.

Your kiss was soft and sweet and magical though I said I could not be

Any closer than the air that we could for the moment share and you

Later in daytime forest walks and by lakes and wherever we were

Touched me more with such wild youthful ecstasy oh I think

You must in your life remember me too if only now and then.

Let me be a young man in the city reaching for you through a fog.

It was such a surprise to me that though the river pebbles were sharp and hard

And cold you laid your bare back on them as I made love to you.

Of all the women I have known or loved or married I think there is none

Whose memory brings such smiles as you and the word for you is fun.

I walk amidst the hustle bustle sidewalk droning crowds and I almost see you.

The Springtime flowers the young girls place in their hair

Carry a scent of yesteryear and maybe if I close my eyes you’re there.

April 18, 2000

Internet source: http://www.thepoetsdiary.com/

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