anniversary poetry

among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
who is the runner in the skies
perhaps it is no matter that you died
once this soft turf
happiness
he came and took me by the hand
she might have known it in the earlier spring
doubtless i remember still
rising moon has hid the stars
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
gingham dog and the calico cat
old wine to drink
the air is full of dawn and spring