Twinkle in Your Eye

  Twinkle in Your Eye

Something draws me there.
Down the stairs
 to the very gate you went through
to play tennis
that Spring day so long ago.
I can’t go in because the door is locked,
but I don’t actually need to.
I sit for a bit,
start to quietly speak,
soon realize that no words really fit.
I listen…
to melodic songs of  birds,
gentle rusting of leaves,
calm cadence of breath.
I look over to the place
where I know you collapsed.
I sigh,
raise my eyes,
 notice how much the trees have grown
in the years since.
Then -
a warm memory of me
going deep for a backhand
during a mixed doubles tournament.
Reaching for the fence to stop my momentum,
but instead going right through a tarp
that hung for a door in those days.
I disappeared,
tumbled down the hill,
then struggled to get up
because I was laughing so hard.
I can see the twinkle in your eye
that appeared as soon as you knew
I was okay.
I feel a soft peace
all through this me that I am now,
the me that I know you saw all along,
that same delightful twinkle
ever present.

Sarah Carlson
June 30, 2024

Our garden wedding - June 30, 1979