I See the Girl Still

Seeing you, I see the girl still,

Whose corn silk hair flows through fingers,

Reticent yet sure, where fear

Of love no longer lingers.

In your widening glance, I see light

Falling soft through morning mist

Upon that small, sullen lake

Where we rode our bikes and kissed.

Time tirelessly chisels

 His rifts, his scores, his creases,

 Instructing us that Beauty

 Only changes, never ceases.

 So who will look upon Time's work

 and in it see the girl still?

 Who will, beneath lax flesh, feel

 Her heart, like a fledged dove's?  I will!                  

                                 — Dominic Martia

Note:  Dominic Martia is a retired professor of English and Vice President of Roosevelt University in Chicago.

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