Let me tell you what I saw in the black and white
Photographs you took at your grandmother's house:
Artful composition, curved lines and contrasts,
And secrets you have spoken to the night sky.
The doorway of the guest room where you stood,
Daffodil in hand, staring at the mirror.
The dark lake that cast a spell on you, one
Clear, starry midnight - you almost drowned.
The stalky dry grass that waved in subtle
Wind behind the house -- I heard it whispering.
Lime tombstones on the edge of the pine woods,
Behind a falling wrought iron fence.
I could almost see the writing on the closest stone...
'In memory of joy and human thresholds.'
