until an autumn afternoon, until

      until an autumn afternoon, until
      a quick, wicked foliage, we lived a dream.
      we lived for as long as we stayed within
      the confines and refrains of memory.
      our past, our flings and flips of heart have marked
      our passing in this nestingplace in time.
      I remember how, in the summerdays,
      we danced, we pranced, we fluttered like flimsy
      lovebirds across the invisible sky.
      arrested, adrift, and finding all my
      memories of you, I realize that
      in your beguiling eyes, I saw no tear.
      the dream has vanished into the winter,
      where it remains and awaits the springtime.

            Lowell R. Luis
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