She wore a yellow dress
I love her yellow dress
it matched the sun
whose rays crept through and touched the golden skin beneath
her father did not like me
but she let me hold her hand
and walked her to Church in the fresh, newly grown, Sunday morning
All week it had rained
and I love the rain
the roads and paths were muddy
but now the sun came up like her yellow dress and revealed to me the heaven of the day.
We sat a while, not yet late for church
on the granite boulders behind the rectory
and as she laughed and placed her hand against my cheek
and said that my skin is pale and hers is honey
and how funny they look together.
She left me to climbed higher on the rocks
she shouted that as children they would play here
she asked if I could follow her and I could
because this had is where I had been a child as well
on these large familiar heavy rocks
that not centuries or thousands of centuries could move.
I would like to see the ocean
I would like to sail a boat
she said, she said
anything she said I listened to and recorded in my mind.
This was our Sunday morning, this was our Church
and I was blessed by Kathy.
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