Temple flowers bloom over your ashes-
a pure white blaze
in the light of that golden afternoon
Shards of memory but remain,
splinters from a time long past -
too few … too far between:
Your presence –well-nigh divine -
piercing through my fevered haze
And then..your touch-
cool …soothing.. unerring
guided by that unseen hand-
working its miracle of healing.
Then..in the cool of an evening -
pinioned in harsh beams I stand…
nervously mumbling callow inanities -
clutching at straws…
the earth open and swallow me.
drawn by a power beyond my ken-
my wild-eyed gaze falls on you seated there-
so placid..so serene- lighting up your face..
..encouraging –nay- willing me to go on.
The final wisp of reminiscence-