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Sunday, September 25, 2011

ETTA, 1957

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ETTA, 1957



His foot was swollen and it ached,
It hurt to the degree that he could no longer concentrate
He had lost the capacity to figure.
His mind could no longer grasp even very simple things.
He was preoccupied and his eyes seemed vacant.

He was young and he kissed her hand,
He kissed her about the face,
He kissed her eyelids,
And he rested his lips at the base of her neck.

He had fervently kissed the skin all-over both her shoulders.

They were standing next to the side of a giant elm,
The tree grew along muddy creek which ran west to a river,
The French settlers had named Des Plaines.

He thought that they might sail away upon the waters.

Yet nothing marked this instant of love
As the warmth and the wide-open sky that August midnight,
Whose awesome, crystal clarity
Registered a white light streak,
An illumination which ended in a surprisingly bright flash.
It let the lovers know
That their moment now lived in eternity.


 
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