does it still taste of summer oranges?
I can’t forget, I keep your note in
Summer has turned to fall and
my hair the color of autumn leaves.
There’s a garland of abalone
plucked from the river wrapped
around my wrist and on my chest
I’ve etched a song bird fading in a wood
I’ve wrapped you in the warmth
of my embrace for fear we may
never kiss kiss again,
still my memory loves you.