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I could feel her

Slipping,

Slipping through my fingers

As I held her.

Mud between her toes,

Towel around chilled naked skin.



As we sit, tall growing clouds

Collect the last colors of the day.

The mirror clear pond traces

The soft touch of swallow wing.



Geese like weary angels

Rush overhead

And in wonderful tumult

Confuse

The mirror I see her in.



Giving the stillness to itself

We return through the tall field.

I touch her, but

She cannot feel the touch.

Tightly I hold her, but

She is too tight to hold.



Dark clouds threaten.

The faded day is done,

And

I walk with her together,

Alone.