I wait for you
at the foot of the stairway and
the morning air blooms
with bright smells of green sap
sounds of mowers
scent of sprinkled grass and
on the steps you pause
and smile.
The sunlight behind you
is in your hair.
You are so young.
And so was I.
But that was long ago
before our worlds
swept both of us
away from there,
away from then.
But on that stairway
you are there, so young
and so am I
and still the sunlight
holds us there.
Your smile is
starlight
from a thousand distant stars
