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In the middle of a quiet afternoon, I rediscovered a love poem and some photos from our time in Arequipa Peru…

I have an image of your face. I came across it in a dream
the way you might find photos in a bureau drawer inside a haunted house…

Is it a negative? It shows the opposite of what the world could ever seem.
Nothing in the world could be so two-dimensionally luminous.

Is it a window? Endless space is etched out in the background scene.
Ice crystals melt upon the foreground glass as it reflects your warm essence.

I analyzed this solitary still… as I once studied sequences in streams
of long pi decimals, where every point is crucial and mysterious.

I believed in music waiting just outside the daily lockstep prison of my life.
These dots might be the stenciled notes a spinet box could play.

Or could this be your aura, passing through someone’s eyes of trouble and strife – prisms in reverse that cast your silhouette in dreams by night, or images by day.

Eventually the scattered tiles of metaphors turned sideways like a knife,
and cut one vibrant moment from my life… your name, your face, is what I finally could hear, see, say.

by David L. Colussi, February 14, 2003

Sprout Question: When do/will you take time to visit the treasures you are keeping shut away?

© 2010 Terrill Welch, All rights reserved.

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Creative Potager – where imagination rules. Be inspired.

From Mayne Island, British Columbia, Canada