Mona

Mona was my wife... we met in 1969, the summer of love, lived as hippies, moneyless and homeless; she was the mother of my children... she is gone now.

We met when days were like a meadow in the summer sun,

And time was like a river coursing, restless and abrupt.

We wandered in from worlds that clashed like storm clouds in the night,

And we seemed as abstract paintings, the colors on the run.

Although our eyes were glazed, our hearts were easy to disrupt;

Our hues and tints together swirled and sparkled in the light.

~

Our skins became electric in the wave of each caress;

Our eyes locked in each other’s and abysmally were lost.

Captivated and enchanted, as children in the wood,

We strode the path with hand in hand and utter carelessness.

Our hearts in tune, there was no cleft that we could not have crossed,

And it was thus that our embrace fixated as we stood.

~

I loved you then, I love you now, but love was not enough

To hold the spirits of the free in times of freedom’s rise.

So blest were we to know the warmth from which the child is cast,

When love was as a sculptor’s block, a gemstone in the rough.

Now, looking back, I see myself in soft and smiling eyes

That never will be lost for me. No love is of the past.

r. nuñez, 5/2019