A downpour cleared the lawn and sent us all
for refuge to the trees where huddling near
a tall trunk, looking round, I saw your face –
though grown much older, well within recall.
So here you are again. I never thought
I’d see you stand like this, with in your eyes
the cold years’ disillusion, on your brow
the scars of all the havoc we once wrought.
What happened to us in between? To me
time proved indifferent: aging never cures
old longing. – What? Of course not. I would hate
to cause you unease. Past the trees I see
the wet grass glisten. In the chilly sky
the sun’s come out but there’s no warmth to stop
my constant shivering. Well-soaked for years
it will take more for sodden hearts to dry.
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