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Our Last Date
Gary Wilson
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When the leaves fall
I begin to remember things
I feel my blood
Stirring, in the winds
And my brain is active
I watch the butterflies at night
And sometimes
I see them spelling out my name
In their light
I walk to a large gray rock
And began to sit
When, I noticed
Linda's name, carved in
I slept with my head on the rock
When I woke, her name was gone
I can still hear her voice
Over the music of the merry-go-round
And I can still see her face
In the JC diner
Where we shared french fries and gravy
For the last time
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