Tuesday, July 8, 2008


Does he ever feel her hand in his
or see her in a passing face
or wish that it were her embrace

that lays him down at night?

Does he look up at the stars above
and think of the girl who he once loved
and of all the dreams and plans they'd made

before being swept apart by fate?

Does she slip into his dreams unbid?
Does he feel her arms? Her legs? Her kiss?
heart thumping wildly against his chest

as if it were Summer of '65?


Oh, how love was sweet!

in his '59 Impala's red-leather seats
on a cul-de-sac to a yet-named street,
to a Carolina girl and her Georgia guy -

whose hand's imprint she feels in hers
as though it were yesterday -

So young -
that girl whose heart was stung
by a Tech "Yellow Jacket" wearing madras plaid.

And although years and youth have passed
that sting still lasts . . .
and lasts . . .
and Lasts