How old daylight felt on me
Drowning me, kindly
It never spoke to me
Of the rotting corpses, of the men it saw making love
Of the time before men or the time before that
It simply stayed
And that stance spoke
Of an isolated afternoon it lit big brown eyes of a girl of twenty
And two men took notice and vowed to make her his’
Of a rippling golden harvest amid a backdrop of a black cloud
Its stance spoke of the colour the first blossom of the spring in time, stretching back to thousands and thousands of years
It spoke of insignificance, as I was to be.
I stand and weep and weep, out of delight , out of sorrow, out of a desire to be remembered, for the beauty of being wiped away from time’s memory.
It simply stayed.