I do not know her face

But, I know her heart.

I do not know her touch

Still, she kisses my soul.

She stitches together ideas and dreams

As pearls on a string

Shining and beautiful

Each its own treasure unique

She knows the memories somehow

That I have forgotten

She knows the pipe dreams

I, ashamed, won’t admit.

She is the colors of seasons

Spring’s hopeful skies and winter’s glazed blue

New grasses in spring, autumn’s bare branches

All so feral in their serenity

She is youth’s beating heart

And the grey wisdom of age

The glinting of sunlight

Off a shimmering pond

She is the farewell wave of a small child’s hand

A lost green balloon, skyward escaping

She reads my mind.

And by her poetry, displays it for all eyes to see