Sunlight warms its wood
- loving strokes in the shape of hands
whorls of light layered brown and gold
like gleaming hazel eyes.
Scars stipple the skin of the legs and bench -
etching deep the satin flesh.
Still standing solid and certain beneath garlands of devil’s ivy- -Thriving writhing vines - a wreath for worn edges - verdant with unapologetic life A gleaming presence in his eternal absence.
35 years gone.