Now in Spring
Had you left in summer
when the sun lies heavy around us
sweltering the meadows,
and even the baby birds have gone
without a last embrace,
I would have merely smiled sadly
and memorized the beauty
of your face.
Had you left in Fall
when the trees grow brilliant once
before they bleed their sorrow,
and the flowers drop their petals
on the dying lawn,
I would have merely frowned to miss
the quite autumnal redness of your hair
when you were gone.
And had you left in winter
when we bundle up
against the chill
when barren trees are even empty
of the birds, I know
I would have merely sighed
to lose the comfort of your hands
as I watched you go.
But you are leaving now in spring
when every other lovely thing returns,
when flowers, blossoms, buds, and birds
are lining up for us
to welcome home with kisses.
Now I know
the tragic irony of parting--
This is!
Terry