That Day We Lay Upon the Grass
That day we lay upon the grass,
A luminescent green.
The sparks that arced from arm to arm
Across the space between.
Our bodies quickened by the sun,
The willow leaves aflush,
The sunlight sparkling on the lake,
Our blood bestirred to rush.
Up and down the parkway, flowers
Enticing with their blooms,
Our loveless winter ended there,
Emerging from our tombs.
For we had slept as sleepers sleep,
Unmindful of the world,
Astonishingly we awoke,
Much like a rose unfurled.
July 3rd — for me — will always be associated with the discovery of enduring love.
When love does not work out, it can painful, and the source of much poetry. But when it DOES work out, it can inspire as well.
The events in this little poem date back to 1982. I know because I kept a little, old pocket calendar that proves it.
I’ve posted this little love poem before, but here it is again in honor of one of my favorite personal holidays.