Tuesday, March 1, 2016

Maybe on a Summer Day


Maybe on a summer day
I will bring you roses
while you look up at me in bed,
smiling at the stranger
who used to be your son.

Each one will make a bright bouquet,
with thorns that sing the blood
of unremembered deeds and roads.

Maybe on a summer day
I will find you standing in the rain,
melting like brown sugar
into girlhood again.

And the rain will be warm,
an urge without an explanation,
sweet beyond reproach,
gently healing fingers.

Red for love, pink for shy belief,
yellow for the sun, a rainbow-ribbon
of light upon your hair, whispers
like the breath of dawn.

Maybe on a summer day
I will take you home again,
a caravan of one along
the narrow country roads
where eucalyptus grows
and the dry grass lies sleeping,
ever sleeping.

(From Songs and Letters, December 29, 2005, subsequently published in The Painting of You, Author’s Press Series, 2009 — a book that still makes me weep — but with joy, with joy.)

4 comments:

Jonathan Chant said...

It is very beautiful. Especially, for me, the final verse. I can see you on that remembered road, the smell of eucalyptus. Yes, a lovely poem, William.

William Michaelian said...

Many thanks, Jonathan.

Jan said...

Yes, William...this is a lovely poem from one of my most cherished books "The Painting of You." I have read my autographed copy over and over since 2010.
One of your writings that touches my heart so dearly is on page 56...Ghosts.
A box of tissues is a necessity because you write from the heart~

William Michaelian said...

Bless you, Jan. Bless us all. Thank you.