Arthur Turfa

While gazing at the water
absorbed in my own thoughts,
a voice calls my name, clear
and lovely as a thousand chimes
each caressed by a gentle breeze,
a whisper reaching a crescendo.

My eyes turn to the green field’s
edge, where begins the grove.
Her smile like sunlight, she
calls again, her eyes dancing
and shining upon my approach.

Everything once lost restored,
every care converted into joy.
In our embrace every moment
past, every moment to come
melts into an unending now.