Still...I remember the strands of my hair
Clinging to the moisture of your lips. The
River rushing past us, groaning, urging time,
Making our love more furious.
Something small...you brushed the grass from
My back, I watched a butterfly (confused) circle
The top of your golden hair. We had eaten wild
Berries and when later I returned to my husband,
I found my breasts were stained from your mouth.
Still...I see you facing the river that last time,
not wanting to see me leave - your head hung,
Arching your back in such a way, and there you stayed
Like a tiger lily bent by the wind.