On my backporch

It doesn't know it's not where it's supposed to be

On my backporch, in a clay pot, is a pussy willow.
It doesn't know it's not supposed to be there.
It doesn't know that it is far from its natural bed.
This little plant causes memories to billow,
Sweet memories that I will not share,
Of a certain beach whose ocean my soul fed.

On my backporch, under a soft nightglow
Into the night sky I dreamily stare
And my thoughts to the past freely fled
Whispering me into its ebb and flow
Until I am no longer aware.
As reverie weaves its gossamer thread
And I relive that moment with you.

Chance sent me flying to meet a man I did not know
Yet I knew him, in that moment, in the stillness of the air,
The comfort of his smile dispelled the clouds of dread,
Something spoke quietly to my troubled soul
There in remarkable eyes that took me unaware
From that moment there was life in a part of me long dead.

Smiling through the reverie, a time warmed and mellow
Of a day spent laughing, of wonders you did freely share
But my heart was touched forever by a simple gift instead.
Not expensive trinkets, how could you know the joy it would bestow?
Out into the misty morning you stole, to bring me something so fair
In girlish wonder the day before, an unguarded moment, something I said
You gave me pussy willows kissed with dew.