Long ago a girl and me
walked an old field.
We photographed
centaurea cyanus,
the blue cornflower.
I forget her name,
yet the flower was in her eyes,
a complement to flaxen beauty.
Idealism fueled by longing,
we attempted as lovers wont
to capture fleeting moments,
to freeze time within a lens.
Each year the flower returns.
She is a memory.
Eyes of cornflower blue
in the hot summer sun.
Duane Robert Pierson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/eyes-of-cornflower-blue/
