Sweet sounds of the mourning dove
The sun filtering through the trees
A clearing full of buttercups and
Daisies fluttering in the summer breeze
You are sitting under the oak
Reading your book so intently
Not noticing my arrival
I observe you patiently
Your hair thick and dark
Glasses on the tip of your nose
Long legs stretched out
Sitting in a comfortable pose
Your book is of course a classic
Catcher in the Rye
You have read it a dozen times
Only you know why
You are in your special place
I do not want to disturb
Happy to be observing you
I will not perturb
Engrossed in your reading
I will watch you for a while
You do not see me
But I am giving you a smile
In nature’s mystical playground
Infused with its energy
I yearn for you from afar
But we can no longer be
I am your past
Gone now from this life
We were once together
When I was your wife
Christine Bolton
