You and I had our last dance
Barefoot on the blueberry shrub.
On the green and blue, the black and violet,
Where cattle bells rang and turned mountains violent.
I wonder if you knew?
As we spun and smiled and stomped the yew.
I wonder if you felt, in your bones as cold night fell,
That the day was soon to come where I would leave you.
I alone had our last dance
as a lone dog tied on the terrace,
Sang unheard by any other, howling at the sun.
Barefoot on the grass, chewed the leash and ran back home.
June, July, August, September,
On November fifteenth,
Yes, I remembered.
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