Because you didn’t love me,
I went to Ireland and took long walks
on the shore, passing
fuchsia and reeds each day.
I watched a lioness in Africa
stalk in the early morning.
I wrote lyrics as soft as April clouds
in New Mexico at sunset.
I posed in the nude for an artist friend,
and learned to dance hard
Latin rhythms easily.
My life is colorful.
If you had loved me, I might
be heavy now, splitting gray rain. Or
we might be exuberant beyond compare.
Copyright © Beate Sigriddaughter 2016
Beate Sigriddaughter, www.sigriddaughter.com, lives and writes in the Land of Enchantment a/k/a New Mexico, USA.
Sublime last lines especially resonate