Elegy for Eva
It’s true you’ve changed. You are
at the dark end of the street
now. If there is time
after time
I’ll meet with you
not here in fields of gold canola,
not by the old barquero’s boat,
not where the water is wide
at river’s bend,
not under those tall trees.
In Georgia? I’m resigned
to joining you
beyond the cold and tears,
in heaven (if fate will grace us both).
In the early morning,
rain reminds songbirds
that summertime is over.
The rainbow is swept away
with autumn leaves. Every colour wades
into your blue eyes.
Crying in the rain dilutes the drops from cheek to cheek
like words forgotten yesterday,
like vows unkept
or curses in a fever that soon fades.
A red, red rose is all
that may remain.
How can I keep from singing
“Kathy’s Song”? It has the drizzling
rain, the street
and you.
I read the letter,
where you wrote that time
is a healer, death a nightbird
at your door, but these two cures
are taking far too long.
At least I can imagine drinks will do,
at last, what can’t be done
by notes and rhyme. Perhaps
it doesn’t matter any more.
from Autumn Sky Poetry 12 — by Colin Ward
Video by Colin Ward
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