For Lydia

I remember, Lydia, looking out the window
as you flung your nine year old body
down on the sweet summer green grass
and lay there, arms outstretched, staring into
the baby blue sky and time also stretched
backwards to me, flinging myself onto the
grass, smelling the warm sweetness,
opening my eyes to a perfect blue above
and closing them to feel the sun warm my eyelids.

It was before your brother died and your Dad,
before you got the tattoo on your arm.
After I moved next door, you made me smile
with your piping voice, your airy delight.
You loved playing with my children and
I took you with to the fair and lost you and then
moved away, lost you for years.

But today Lydia, seeing a light blue sky,
I came upon you again, remembering you in
flung out joy, and I hope your grief has softened,
I hope your man loves you and you see the same
outstretched joy in a daughter.