Sometimes I think I hear your footstep in the garden, my dear
then I’m certain I’ve imagined you
the hue of your long scarlet hair
the breezy sweet chime of your laughter.
I study your self-portrait for meaning
for the silent breath of you again
Writer, Traveler, For-fun Photographer, Blogger (mostly on Paris). Shorts published in Gemini Magazine & Cascadia Rising Review. www.writeonthyme.blogspot.com