Picture Three

I remember that day:
How the trees stood still
How the hills made psalms
How the earth touched its orbit
How my head cycled round
How the night called thunder
How my eyes made rain
Some of the details are lost
Buried in a place called forgotten
It’s a date that sank its claws deep
Into my innocence, tearing away
Giving me the wisdom of ten years in a day
Forcing me to grow, to know
How to mark my calendar
In black ink
With a black heart
And burn candles.

Vera