LOVE LOST



A summer’s end ago
I lay smiling at the sun
in a field of green
waist-high wild grass,
as you held me
in your arms.

Then running, falling
as we grabbed
at butterflies and ladybugs,
not for capture but for fun,
then loosed each one
in curious wonder.

Later wading, splashing
an ice-cold creek
as water droplets
tickled down our faces,
drying faster in the sun
than we would have liked.

And sometime after
came a new moon’s
golden glow
smiling at us,
as we lay sleeping
in each other’s arms.

But when the storms
washed over us,
in darkness you were gone,
those flood waters
swallowed up our field
and carried you away.

And though the sun
has long returned,
in me the darkness lives,
where I hold back
a flood of tears,
and relive what used to be.

About this poem

This is a reworking of my poem Is This But Something--written on April 6, 1976 for a poetry class in Columbus, Ohio. That poem ended (after the “sleeping” verse) asking: “Or is this but something ... in my mind ... I have dreamed so often ... that it should seem so real?” The teacher didn’t like the way the poem ended. The new ending (written in 2023) actually clarifies the intent of the poem, which could apply to the loss of a life, but is actually a metaphor for the loss of a lover.  

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Written on May 05, 2023

Submitted by LinYoest on June 28, 2023

49 sec read
64

Quick analysis:

Scheme ABXXCD EXXBBF EXXXBX FXAGED XGXXXX BXXXXC
Closest metre Iambic trimeter
Characters 759
Words 164
Stanzas 6
Stanza Lengths 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6

Linda L Yoest

I am 70 years old. I used to write poetry quite a bit in my 20s and 30s, but haven't for a very long time. I wrote my favorite poem in 1984 and gave it framed to my parents for Christmas--it was on tracing paper over a drawing I did of a hand. My parents have passed away; the poem hangs over my computer desk. It was published in American Poetry Anthology 1987, Volume VII, Number 1, edited by John Frost. The title is The Element; page 306; my last name at that time was McDonald. It's time to get back to reading--and maybe writing--poetry. more…

All Linda L Yoest poems | Linda L Yoest Books

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