First Memory
Morning bears mama sighing,
Eyes blue and wet
Like a disqueting dream
That surfaces, waves in the distance,
And plunges downward leaving
The residue of things I remember
But really don't believe.
Eyes blue and wet
Like skies I want to swim in, salty
Fingers moist and wriggling
Down into my anxious mouth.
Even now I ache
For the sun dripping
Through the window glass,
Warming her, recalling the spirit
That soars to the foaming waters, calm
Radience that shines still in her eyes.
Even now I ache.
Now, before I know the meaning
Of golden.
--Monica Garvin Dees