I am aware of her awareness
Her knowledge, her acceptance
Of finiteness
Of the sun that penetrates
Black, white
And my pink skin.
She rests her head on cool brown earth
I, mine, on prickly verdant lawn
With one hand on her back; we exist
Together, breathing in the autumn
Ingesting the sounds
Of birds and traffic
In the unseasonable warmth.
She looks at me through lazy, longing eyes…
I sigh, and through her eyes imagine
Taking final sighs, final glances
Of a cat in a garden
And I by her side
Meaningless in history
Yet everything in hers.
~ c.p.grisold
© 2004