A poem written in meter with no rhyme, Its first title was "The Transformation of Love." I chnaged the tilte because the poem concerns more nostalgia

He Saw a Boy...He Saw Himself


He saw a Boy, green-stained, kicking a cat.
Running from giggling girls, feigning disgust.
Rubbing the fox hole dirt from his swollen
Knuckles. Swinging stick sword late for supper.

With sinking heart, though smile, he saw himself:

His smooth lamb hands giving a green-grass ring
With sun shaped diamond weed, they both blushing.
The children’s wedding in the woods,
Carving two sloppy names into a trunk.

He remembered her smooth red rose silk lips
The sweet youth taste of ten thousand kisses.
Both running from their sleeping homes at night
To meet in their green-bed of sleepless love.

His anxious hands sliding a gold-brown band.
Angel approaching altar, they both beaming,
Her glory veiled among gladdened silence.
Kissing like Death, feeling resurrection.

Time turned the green-grass brown and glory dim
Ploughing, pulling the skin, fading the rose.
Her silk frayed to prickly pines unplucked
And greyed enamel breath turned wine to vinegar.

Their bed was torn in two, haunting sep’rate
Havens. Her pixie pass– his heaven home–
Wore dry and desolate a shriveled pit
Where he refused to be buried.