Member Poem

" I see you.  I hear you.  Whispering to yourself again."  said a voice overhead flitting from tree top to tree top.
"You used  to come here often for lazy saunters,
with that angel of the dawn by your side."
My head spun as I leaned awkwardly against,
a fern clad sessile oak tree.
"Oh indeed,  I did.  And more to the point,
we savoured every minute.”
The voice of an alternative mind or
lively fantasy from the outside world.
That voice now zooming in and out.
"Blowing dandelions to a frosted over sun,
as prelude to romance."
Memory water-logged with incident.
The echo chamber of lonely figment.  
Eavesdrop of prying habitats,
for whom privacy is an open secret.
Ah, ghosts of a long forgotten stroll,
among the reeds hazily recalled.  
River current spraying  the black needle,
rush plants where we used to hide.  
Spikelets et al.                   
How we used to gasp in amazement as the rainbow trout,
skinned the surface of a silver stream,
 a stream that was  once centrifuge,
of emotion for us both.
Now  passed, dried up.
"Who cares for there are no spectators  in this tangled wilderness, this eerie glen."  Dawn  angel thought.
We both thought.
But was it true or was this glen, the glen of our imaginings?
We used to wade awkwardly,
through pockets of squelching marsh,
Mud splatters mingling with our shrieks of  elation,
Joy in broad daylight.
Sweet vernal grass blades, turned landmark event. 
Chalk mark etched upon some cleaved rock,
as token of our surreal union.
Open air contentment left the sky,
bemused as passive onlooker.
The sun gave chase to some trick of the light,
strafing our wild dash.
Layer of ribbon- like hornwort as slippery footing.
But did this really happen?
The bird that once so joyfully sang,
now offers its condolence.
Tree after tree line in funeral like procession,
as the wind weeps in my ear.
It wouldn't be my thoughts dancing,
rings around my aching psyche?
The waltz of wishful thinking on the leafy mist.