I often remember
holding your hand
skipping in the rain
dancing on sand.
Never such innocence
before nor since,
that spread
like the wind through trees
or like some city and some disease.
I often remember
holding your hand
sat down in long grass
so high I could not land.
When the future and past
were frightfully far away
and the leaves of the blossom
became brighter, day by day.
