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    Summary

    “If you will grant me one vivid morning, I can chain it to me for fifty years.” — William Stafford, ‘Sounds of the Ax: Aphorisms and Poems

    You think that was the colour of his eyes. That forest green that only ever shows on young leaves in spring. If you close your eyes you may still glimpse it. But you do not want to, else you’re afraid you’ll fall asleep. And your dreams are only ever of his death, never of his living.

    (The years will pass and you will forget, but the forest stays deep, and full of memories to keep.)

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