Recollections in Blue

A single strip of cloth descending,
some blue lace slips down 

into the contours 

of the imagination,

an innocence,

and she thought she lost her family in Venice like a lost train of thought slipping, drifting into the rest of a long-deserved nap.

And the rain still falls outside this upstairs window, although there was only a drizzle when she left.

She’ll be back. 

She said she was only going to cross the street, and it’s warm and dry up here in this room full of memories, gratitude and grace unending,

contours and lace descending, 

and the gentle innocence of the rain

and my imagination.