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;
we were here first.
A version of this originally appeared in “Healing” The Teller December 2019 Issue #9
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