The Happiest Time

A poem by Jude Kyrie

The Happiest Time

It was long ago so long ago
a time of innocence.
Springtime I am sure the lilacs abundant.
Their heady sweet fragrance pervading,
vines of them climbing all over the trellis,
my parents alive and seemingly immortal
belying their fragile permanence.
As much a part of the structure  of life
as the house they inhabited.
our children running about
the youngest as new as the spring morning,
seemingly children of ours forever,
not knowing how shallow their roots
how easily moved they were.
This morning early cool and quiet
children sleeping at last some adult time.
I had no idea I was happy then.
Just too busy always a list of chores
never complete always growing.
In reflection they made the time brighter
we drank hot coffee on the porch
the newspaper lay by the coffee pot
full of war and drama of the day.
I saw the flowing golden hair of her head
forgetting the issues of the newspaper
thinking only how soft it would feel
flowing onto my bare chest in our bed.
if only I could have  frozen that moment.
Asked of myself are you really happy?
In the glowing morning that was full
of the springtime and its flowering carpets
I would have whispered
Yes very happy my love

so very happy