Thursday, April 5, 1979

Rey de la Torre

Your guitar, from another room—
Old friend. With that minuet
The garden at home came back to me:
Tall honeysuckle blooming again;
A cat recommending sunlight sleepily;
Myself, intimate with morning.
I had forgotten until you played.
Now for the life of me
I cannot remember that minuet.
Never mind. Somewhere all moments merge.
This summer in the garden I will think of you.


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