When Love Was Rampant. . .

The bones creek
and there is lack of motion
because like the deep freeze
enveloping the lakes,
the skeleton is immobile.

The comforter wraps
around bony knees
and hugs my chest
while eucalyptus bathes
what is left of my senses.

The scent is clearly
reminiscent of a world
where row upon row of bushes
yielded itself to memory
where love held sway.

And children ran
on green grasses and
waters filled lakes
with clarity and sky was void
of black plumes.

Our motives were obvious
and good and love was rampant
in abundance.
All this too was a dream dreamed
by a need shouted in a whisper.

It was lived in and children
prospered and grew into adults
whose dreams
fathered other dreams. . .

When did they become a nightmare?

art by claudia hallissey