Scene

Early days of summer, sharp and bright
and sudden. I am startled by his skin:
sandalled foot and slender ankle. In
the flesh, too real. Sun-stroked in the light,

caressed... my mind is softening the blow,
smoothing the lines, stroking, making folds
from edges, turning inward. Memory holds
two versions of the picture; this I know:

both are right.

(for SR)