blur of color

the only way is
remembering the tail end
of the comet in her;
it flew close and joy
and it loves the sizzle.

memory closes the gap
between stars and shoelaces;
I tied the bear of it;
so many summer and woods
and catching frogs-
she was the charge.

there is the blur of yourself
mixing the colors of thoughts
of days, of years in
the space of glowing wonder,
of the shooting grin
of first kiss.