A memory stimulated by Bozena Happach's
bronze sculpture

I saw her just once. A tremulous shadow of my yesterdays
still lingers. Persistently. Or is it but a dream
of unfulfilled desire? Fragments of memories, petals,
floating forlorn, down life’s winding stream.

Her step was as light as a morning’s dew,
her smile as bright as the rising sun,
her touch was as gentle as the summer’s breeze.
I really have no idea how it all began.

Alas ‘tis folly, for I never touched her––
other than with my thoughts. I would not defile
a dream. A fleeting illusion––ghostly apparition?
Yet memories of her continue to beguile…