On the Day You Died
July 2, 1937
8:45 am
You were no longer the girl
who wore brown and walked alone.
You had traded muted earth
for postcard blue sky.
They will remember confetti
and convertibles, and you
streaking ever away,
a bouquet of silk flowers
lovely only from a distance,
thrown into the air,
never caught.
July 2, 1937
8:45 am
You were no longer the girl
who wore brown and walked alone.
You had traded muted earth
for postcard blue sky.
They will remember confetti
and convertibles, and you
streaking ever away,
a bouquet of silk flowers
lovely only from a distance,
thrown into the air,
never caught.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson