Memories
The Beauty and the Doom of that last day—
No heart was in me but an empty gaping wound
That reddened all the hours.
We were afraid to speak: to look: to touch—
At dusk within the house a dog barked wildly
And at that—I heard a voice—a wizard’s voice
That gave me back my heart.
You spoke—and words were wands that touched and changed
Passion to glory—thistles into palms