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The First Time I Saw You
by Michael Escoubas

you danced with lilacs scenting
the spring air. Petunias and bluebells
clapped their hands. Forsythia
and red bud tangled in a clash
of color. When you turned,
your yellow hair shifted shoulders.
I thought your eyes caught mine,
but I couldn't let you know
I saw you watching me. You were
a poem waiting to be written.
In the brushings of your dress
you gave voice and image
to lines crying for habitation.
You live in these lines, today,
after all these years,
as from the first time I saw you.

 

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