I Do Not Often Dare
I do not often dare imagine | ||
what life will be without her; | ||
without the candle of her eyes | ||
I cannot imagine living. | ||
But sometimes | ||
when I see her resting, | ||
a golden leaf upon the snow, | ||
I know that every lighted thing | ||
will be these eyes, and so | ||
will all the stars shine on | ||
beyond this room, | ||
a stand of birch reflect the moon. | ||
Mary Lowell | ||
for Mother, Helen Geneva Blakey Woodall | ||
† February 15, 2002 |