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Green
to Gray
Lime
frog,
you
come nightly to my kitchen window,
a
thin white line highlights your upturned mouth, returning my
smile.
Your
skin illuminates the darkness.
Your
feet, small suction cups, cling to the pane,
to
your memory of this world.
Did
you breathe your essence into the body of the Tree Frog;
is
it you that flickers in his eyes?
Through
the lens of a child, you were evergreen.
I
didn't notice you slowly fading.
My
eyes wandered.
When
I looked back, sage shadows had cast their silvery glances over
you.
I
roamed again.
Then
suddenly, a fog had eclipsed you .
My
pleading gaze couldn't lift the shroud.
You
peer in,
never
tiring of watching me prepare dinner, eat and clean up.
Your
convex eyes glisten
like
ebony marbles that see in every direction.
You
needn't look back to see behind you;
pressed
against the glass,
in
your cream colored belly, your spirit knows the past.
Eventually,
days turned over like calendar pages flipped by the wind
I
spent less time at the window.
Now
when I open the blinds
there
is only darkness.
You
are gone
and
between us
lies
a gray twilight.
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