I Picture Her

I picture her in lace
as delicate as the dreams
writ upon the purest face
ephemeral as day’s first gleam
I picture her in flowers
summer’s breath made whole
perfumed time defines the hours
spent regarding such a soul
I picture her as love
personified in beauty’s word
immaculate as is the dove
released as heaven’s sweet reward


little birdie on a rock
a singing in the sun
accompanied this poetry
and made of it a song
we sat together wistfully
composed each line or two
and set it out into the sky
to wing a way to you.

I think he was a sparrow
or something of that kind
he chirped out loud a chorus
and I would set my mind
to illustrate libretto
and bring words into play
before his song was ended
and he had to fly away.