poetry

now

i never said goodbye, did i?

i never spoke the word

with all its weight attached

only acting silent pantomimes

from a fail-safe distance

we’ve both been through the fire

and back on separate paths

seen only by ourselves …

who we are is not what we were

and only God knows who

will become of us separately

you were spring burned up

by summer as i wintered

on my own, alone but not alone

so long ago, so far away

at home — and now winter

thaws to spring again …

but not the spring of then.

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