Shaped By Sunlight

Now when I see the sunlight on the garden
I remember how you took me on an autumn journey,
mixing for me your own time of broil and turbulence
yet still able to sing the strains of a maudlin madrigal
celebrating that time, too soon to pass for all of us.

I remember myself in those parallel days
not unaware, but unthinking, completely full
of childish optimism about the shining present,
not really touched by the lowering clouds
that hid your special sunshine.

When for me too that time had already passed
and what you had shown was for most a reminder only,
it was then that you seized my mind late, and held me 
for years with your skilful conversational spells
compacting life in your poignant novelettes.

And now,  despite your doubts and cynical denials,
your unsentimental show of honest sentiment,
you hold me still with your woven chain of words;
and I am caged forever within the netted sunlight
of that golden minute in the garden.