Afternoons Under Wisteria

My hands, my petals, my face to the sun!
In the safe place, I dance before the one with the gentle eyes.
Years it has taken, an entire adulthood, to get back here.
This one, he looks down and smiles.

No memory in childhood not now dappled with sun.
Together we invent worlds on the patchwork carpet under the sundeck,
my God-man, my blue-eyed child, my various selves.
Together, we reinvent my history.

 

View the painting that inspired the poem. 


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