once upon a dawn of a distant sunrise

Isn't it funny how people come into your life? Perhaps you meet them in passing, or a name falls gently to the ground and buds there like a primrose in spring which you walk by with a nod and a breath, the colour marks you, but soon you walk on by into the trees. Then, by chance, as you sip your morning coffee, those pale yellow petals all but forgotten, thinking now of stranger fruits, you stumble upon a glade of them, or perhaps just one, radiant in monochrome grass, and you reach the heart of a question asked moons before . . .