Threnody for Camilla

by Richard King Perkins II

I can feel the presence of your will
the warmth of your distant sounds

in the place where you’ve gone
to be;

a house in the high mist

quiet cobblestone pathways
slowly winding
between temples and colonnades

the taste of wine from the moon-tree.

All the wonders of the unseeable world.

And here I remain.
The dreamer who falls in dreams
and lives on as a whistling sigh;

the sound of swatting flies
on a solid chair in an abstract room.


[Check out Richard’s back porch wisdom]