She of My Lean Years

She of my lean years
she of the early seventies
when my waist was thirty inches
and my biceps twenty two
she of my unconsecrated youth
when I could see no farther
than the coming weekend

she of my memories
carved by hammer
chisel
and coconut oil
into the muscle of my heart
she whose eyes I can still see
when I close my own

she of my soul

I pray she has had a good life
and peace and fortune
are with her now
as she enters the twilight
as I do now
I only wish
   I could remember her name