When, in some distant time; no, I don’t mean

Those halcyon days of summer, when you are busy

In a world adults cannot enter. Or splashing on shorelines

Held tightly by the eternal bond of mother and father.

Or else falling in long grass grown taller than your head,

While running so fast, you were a blur to others.

You grew so quickly, so they said

 

             No, I don’t mean then. Nor when, in some distant time,

             The angst of adolescence struggles to accept

             The warm embrace of loves familial holy grace,

             And self-identity is all.

No, not then either as I recall.

 

When, in some distant time;

But not those cool nights of autumn,

As the first flush of a young woman’s blush

Lingers on your cheek, radiant as the glowing embers

Of late September’s sun. When questions,

Along with the lamps were lit.

And you asked, ‘What’s that’? And ‘what is this’?

 

             I have it in mind, that in some distant time,

When spring is masquerading as summer,

             And you are all wide open;

             Ears, eyes, lips, nostrils, arms.

             Then, you may remember when I took up my pen;

             Imagined you standing, hand in hand,

             On the threshold of the aisle,

And through the veil of time and space,

Offered up a smile.