by L. A. Powell
Rated: ASR · Poetry · Romance/Love · #1266049
From The Diaries of Lisa Lansing
|From the final diary of Lisa Lansing - missing and feared murdered - submitted by Deputy Chief Jack Goldman of the Dallas Police Department to the FBI on May 11, 2003. The next day, Chief Goldman himself disappeared. It is not known how long the diary was in Goldman's possession.|
Unsure if imagined or dreamed, it presses me.
It presses me to share it, as if it were truth.
Long ago near a live oak tree, I passed you by,
not knowing you, not seeing you, wishing for you just the same.
And the live oak said you would have electrified me
had I been so lucky as to glance to my right and catch your eyes.
Not so long ago, you passed by me
underneath another tree, but looked the other way.
The life we could have won - now memories unmade, never known.
The tree wept as it shared the thought.
And I wonder now, what would our children have become,
and our grandchildren, and theirs?
I let you pass, you let me go, neither knowing that each time,
each event belonged to us and to the unborn from us.
In the Spring of our Summer, we chanced beside a flower
and became old friends, just met.
Though all our gifts of life were given, the gift of us
came round again in a dance; a dance of balance.
Touches missed, misses touched only by regrets not known.
Were you meant for me? Yes, you knew more than I. Still, I knew.
Knowing we knew what the live oaks know,
that time was ours no matter what, or if, we vowed to stay.
"What is a long, intricate, intimate dance together where nothing matters
more than our own sense of balance and choice of partner? "
In the meaning of the Bloom, a single word.
But for you and me: it is us.
For more on Jack Goldman, please check out
It has a strong connection to the next installment in the Lisa Lansing series.
For more on Lisa Lansing, go here