What's True (Poem 226)

What I say now

isn't always true. 

What's true is you, standing 

like some ancient blue and 

silver idol under the full moon. 

What's true is the blanket 

of mist that shrouds the valleys 

and damp fields in amethyst 

silence at dawn. 

What's true is the long, slow sway 

of the mid-day ferry between 

kelp scented sea and crisp clear sky, 

and the first joyous leap when 

those elusive dolphins burst from 

the wave off the bow. 

What's true is the sweet, slightly-musty scent 

of faded elegance and the creak 

of the stairs under our feet. 

No, what I say now 

isn't always true. 

But what I knew then, was.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six