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Before I Am Gone
Little angel-faced one,
whose heart was open to me
like the fields of the valley,
whose kind words were welcome
like the warmth of the sun
when the window is glazed with frost,
do you remember how I came to you
when your breasts were but teardrops
on sullen daisies crouching under the wind
and netted in a green fiasco?
Do you remember how I was
but a trembling leaf in the gale
that was your devotion? Little dreamy-headed one,
whose ways were gentle to me
like the stream that glides over the vale,
whose voice was the sound
of all other things being forgotten,
do you remember how you came to me
when my heart was but an empty road,
spilling out across a wilderness
like the ribbon that fell from your hair
when, in the sylvan shadows, we first kissed?
Do you remember how you were then?
Like a basket of flowers
floating down a moonlit river
when I lifted you up
to cradle you in my arms
and then set you back
into the swirling waters to one day
drift into the arms of another. Dear little smiling one,
whose blush was rosy
like a summer evening horizon,
whose eyes were soft with care
and bright with teasing lights,
do you remember when I knew you
and you were young like daybreak
waiting for the hours to unfold
with the satin petals of the purple crocus?
And do you remember when all the riches
of your heart lay before me, blinding,
like a city of a thousand golden spires
shimmering in the perihelion sun?
Tell me you remember it, my darling one.
Tell me so before I am gone from this world.
by John Gately Luz
There are two lasting bequests we can give our children: one is roots. The other is wings.
- Hodding Carter, Jr
Potpourri which has lost its scent can be revived by adding a few
drops of essential oil.
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