By: David O’Keefe

I wouldn’t lie to you or lead you astray;

Please smell the breeze

One autumn away.

Hold snow in hand and let the flakes come alive;

To feel all these sensations

I could not dare describe.

Like the first sight of leaves hugging closely to branches;

Eyes locked on young bluebirds

And their daintiful dances.

Summer days last long as the dreams they guard,

Like the sweet tastes of memories

From the burial backyards.

Hear it in your mind or stop and find the time.

And enjoy the waves

And the wind and the dirt;

Just remember,

we were here first.


A version of this originally appeared in “Healing” The Teller December 2019 Issue #9

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