Maybe on a Summer Day
I will bring you roses
while you look up at me in bed,
smiling at the stranger
who used to be your son.
Each one will make a bright bouquet,
with thorns that sing the blood
of unremembered deeds and roads.
Maybe on a summer day
I will find you standing in the rain,
melting like brown sugar
into girlhood again.
And the rain will be warm,
an urge without an explanation,
sweet beyond reproach,
gently healing fingers.
Red for love, pink for shy belief,
yellow for the sun, a rainbow-ribbon
of light upon your hair, whispers
like the breath of dawn.
Maybe on a summer day
I will take you home again,
a caravan of one along
the narrow country roads
where eucalyptus grows
and the dry grass lies sleeping,
ever sleeping.
December 29, 2005
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Also by William Michaelian
POETRY
Winter Poems
ISBN: 978-0-9796599-0-4
52 pages. Paper.
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Another Song I Know
ISBN: 978-0-9796599-1-1
80 pages. Paper.
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