Easy Connection Poem by Roger Gerald Hicks

without husband and child,
she visits occasionally.
With her, its a trip to a monument
like Grand Canyon, perhaps, but
I feel out of myself, smaller,
yet connected to larger things.

Now, gone, only a cup remains;
I served her tea; know
exactly where her lips rested.
Sipping from the cup
I try to re-capture something,
remember touching her
lightly in a good-bye embrace;
White Linen perfume.

We talk of many things, love, occasionally.
She loves me like she loves a good book;
I love her like the fragrances
of a spice shop-
heady- outside any other experience.

The chasm between us yawns.
Time drains my body of inspiration
while her life slowly unfolds.
In ten years she will be old
as soft brandy- great!
one of those few gifted women
who reach forty in splendor.

I clutch our love like the memory
of the pungent odor of burning leaves
in a Fresno summer-
a thin and delicate reality
paint on metal-
fending off corrosion and decay.