On afternoons later in life,
rocking in the shade of thick trees
in southern Missouri,
she nodded often, smiled some, said little
At eleven, a gangling monkey
with tiny sculptured breasts poking
from under a white t-shirt,
she never said no to anything
Her mouth forever flower tasting,
Helena kissed me, pinched me,
raced me bare footed downhill,
red faced, hair a windstorm
I chased her, lost her,
one morning, one summer,
Helena dashing fast ahead
through the whirling day