another year

the horses are running with the springtime rains
the heat, well…
rising, on the approach of summer again.
calendar leaves get flipped one by one
with the setting of her moon
and the gifting of the morning’s sun.
isabella, one year older, she has turned.
mixed with cullen,
his personality… as a mustang, has begun to run.
drifting back,
how, i still look
years pass, now we have eight
adding up what memories do make.
the long ago and the present,
the brief shadows as i quickly turn
the oddity maybe of your presence.
remembrance,
of the draped blue and white urn.