I remember you
one lost rainy solstice,
beautiful with the purity of youth,
untried, arrogant, straight
and strong and true.
it was the longest day
of summer, before it turned
to retreat from our tanned arms
and your defiant face.
that steady march away from glamour –
your eyebrows scold it,
as you bristle, insolent as a cat –
but none of us can hold it back.
or the years that follow
and strip you of your silky hair,
smooth-skinned, lithe-limbed nonchalance,
that once inviolate confidence,
cool studied air of being unaware.
you are less sure, less yourself,
your sharp clean edges fuzzied, ill defined,
a pale reflection of yesterday’s radiance.
it’s almost too much for me to bear.