Remembering You

A poem

I saw you through the window;

There weren’t any blinds on.

You were wearing a pair of shorts

And a t-shirt.

Next time, when you invited me,

You were standing behind the door,

As is customary,

Wearing a long black gown

Matching your long black hair,

And dark, piercing eyes.

Now, whenever I am in a crowded place,

Jolly or otherwise,

I always excuse myself

And walk away for a bit;

Pretending to climb the hill,

Or observe the oaks,

Or examine the tiny grass-flowers,

Or listen to the sweet, soft rhythm of the waves,

Like the ones Alexa fetches from the air when I sleep.

Under the guise of such innocuous activities,

I, actually, take the time to remember you,

To mourn you,

To imagine you,

To converse with you,

To taste you again,

And long for you.

Halifax, 16.09.2020