Widow

One day, last spring or two springs ago,
I was suddenly drawn to the window,
Where in mourning shawl walked a widow.
In her wrinkled hand I noticed a ball
Of the prophecy. And like in a slow
Motion I stepped back, but heard, "I will show
You..." "Nnnno... Thththankks..." "What you're longing to know..."
"I... Nnnothing..." "Whether he loves you or no..."
My gaze stopped... Darkened... I squeezed her cold hand
And she dropped the ball...It rolled in the grass...
My future and past were curling in sand
And then... You and I... "But I cannot grasp
Why my hair are white?.." The light struck the land,
The ball turned to clay and she to an asp.

May 12, 2010