Tracey Hardie

To him, she meant everything—
(for a while)

He watched her grow passionately
from his very limbs.
She an emblem, his emerald which glittered
opulently when the sun dared to flicker upon her.

Time—
the passage to loyal seasons
who changed consistency
without atonement
and all things
must bid a de rigueur goodbye—

Her amber emotions showed with a
delicate swayed wave of Farwell—
(her gesture rotates
left to right in a
soft leisurely motion)
until excited by the notion
(leaving him as he stands tall and proud)

she spirals on the final journey
to a new place—
a place where she can languish
into other shades
and Mother Earth waits in silent sympathy
to swaddle her into her folds.