If the fragrant jasmine no longer blooms
during spring’s pearl moon,
Will I at last forget its aromatic delight
floating on the breeze of memories
of you when I close my eyes?
And if the joyous mockingbird should
with suddenness stop crooning,
Will past melodies warbled
live on in a lethargic summer wind?
Will we remember them with affection
as when they were first sung
in the golden morning sun
or will they become dimmed?
When –not if–I die my darling
and release my last warm breath
Will you still recall we were each other’s all,
Those passionate nights and love drenched days,
or will they– like me crumble, wither, and fade
vanishing from sight in the tangled blue haze?
©2019 Linda Lee Lyberg
Imaginary Garden With Real Toads: Asking Questions