Let me give the world a gift. More incorruptible than love.”

                                                                      Anna Akhmatova 
 
 
 
O’ Anna, now we hear the colors, knowing see
forever, time is a tree, reflected faceted pieces
of this everyday forest. Now, grows everything.
                                        *
What we, feeling clouded, you noticed, released
then thickened, and it lingers, again much longer.
Stronger, eventually than love or any of the seas.
                                 the flower
O’ mine, you taught us children, poetry’s hunger
rhymes intoxicated in our cross stitched years.
Thine, an ephemeral delicate white linen wonder 
                                         *
of form, of life and you have left both so we hear. 
We summer in paths of leafboat-wild then calm.
Like reason and hope in light, dappled and clear.
                         it was left, for you
Did you know that then being, we could reappear 
again in tears, filled ponds left by falling bombs?
Holy garden rising in the footprints of our years.
                                       *
O’ light, we don’t know your what, or how to lead
a word’s world through a beautiful eternal shore
of time, of rhyme. Seasoned gates we now leave
                                                  Alex 
open, and what of these, our shoes at your door?
Your poems, your incorruptible gift, light ageless
of attention is recieved. is here, I place it here for
                                      *
you, small words, forever again between these pages.
Small things not unlike time itself, this, a pressed flower,
—hands clasped in a wooded shade, eternity, for an hour.