If

If I did not carry you to me

Gently

weaving my minds imagination upon you

Like a photograph

Or go to hold you in my arms

Or carry this water to the rivers edge

Where you lay

And have always been

If I did not call attention to these things

My sweet imaginings of

That rest upon you

In my gentle kindling

Of birds wings

Somehow nesting

Somewhere

Making calling

Home over rough terrain

This emptiness

Would in these shells made mine

Echo back

To me

The muse

Of my yearnings

Turning

The swiftness of one life

Upon the untouched air

Unreachable

I could not define

You

who have rested here before me

After my dreams

Running wildly away

yvette m smith may 2009

poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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