Memory

We never fought much
or so I remember
and only once
did I make you cry

A lifetime together
reduced to moments
now less defined
less remembered

a kiss on the bow
of a Brooklyn bound ferry
when I was Leo, you were Kate
  long before they were to be

and our trips to the north
where we walked in Autumn;
you wore my t-shirt
nipples erect

that night in Ayer
when I was your hero;
naked while killing the dragon fly
  as you screamed in our bed, passion forgotten

Now I sit in the summer sun
a warm breeze blowing from the sea
smiling at a dragon fly
perhaps you sent to comfort me

as the dark cloud intrudes in memory
shades of the day I had to tell you;
couldn’t get through life without making you cry
  it mattered not my good intentions

for I was the one who had to tell you
the day our son died in my arms.

.

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