A Red Dress and A Park Bench

It was here she sat on this simple park bench
between the oaks,
the summer sun and leaves,
with the aid of a zephyr, dapple laughter
innocently upon her beauty
and her smile, ricochets
from the underside of the boughs.

Searching my mind, I have wondered;
was it the beauty of the innocence
or the innocence of the beauty therein
that radiated more potently?

There was music and its name was laughter.
Composed in the heart,
its purity, sanctifying, glorious
and shared selflessly; lovingly.

I fancy I can see her yet, beckoning.
sitting in her red dress,
the backdrop of yellow daffodils
slowly genuflecting in the breeze;
waving, as if to fan a flame.

The flame has died now but the embers
live on in my breast;
in my mind and in my memory.
I bring my grandchildren here now.
The bench is worn and as I slide my fingers
along its surface, I hear the music
and the oaks dapple tears
Longingly upon my cheeks.