Where Are Those Afternoons?

Where are those afternoons in which we walked beneath whispering trees among pastures? Where are those afternoons, drifted in their springtime blue panels and gently shoved into stockrooms full kernels? Where are those afternoons, hiding in the one you came home and smiled... In the afternoon you died... stands now a stationary table.... A table like a wooden eye... Where are those afternoons and why are they gone...? Where are those afternoons, bursting of reye?