Carol Raisfeld
Twig of Love
I remember him from the years when everything sparkled with new light. There may have been a hint of love as we shared adventures, grains of sand in our clothes, and laughed until dawn, but in the dancing crowds we came apart. We slipped off into the world again leaving little marks, bits and pieces of each other for each other.
I wondered if we’d ever meet again and if we did would he remember. Would his memories be only skin deep when I still think about what could have been?
And now a vague voice from the past calls, thinking I’d like to know. He tells me he’s died. I’m grieving. Grieving for a little twig of love that never blossomed. It joins the debris on the sidewalk of my journey.
passing stranger we must have loved before somewhere your essence envelopes me an imprint remains
About the Author
Carol Raisfeld lives in Atlantic Beach, New York. The winner of international awards and an anthologized poet, her art and photography appear worldwide in print and online journals.