there is a valley by a studio
in some green moutained state
the view is quite terrific
the walk is made of slate

I went back again to that spot
that she and I had shared before
when leaves were glossy green
and the brook had jumped and played

somehow in parallel to our lives
the trees were all asleep
leaves were dead upon the ground
the air was empty, devoid of sound

there was no echo of her laugh
I swallowed but could not taste her kiss
no vision of her would float there
suspended in the winter air

what preceeded this exorcism
and made it so complete?
was now this spot a fresh foundation
to build new memories?