by Richard Vince
Last night I heard the town hall clock
Distantly chime seven as the sky began
To take on a soft orange hue,
And my food sizzled gently in the oven,
And I lost my place in my book.
It was a lot darker last time
I made my way across the square as
Those same tones rang out,
Hurrying to catch the five past bus
After covering for a sick colleague.
I think I did manage to tell the new girl
That it had been a pleasure
Working with her before she ascended
Queen Street to get her bus; if not,
It would seem that I will not have
That opportunity again.
No one seems to want to say anything...
Perhaps because they know of
Nothing they could say, or perhaps
Because I've not asked.
I have no idea what I could
Ask anyway, or what good it might do.
It just seems that she's done something
I've thought occasionally of doing myself...
Maybe we are kindred spirits after all.
Or perhaps there's some other reason I'll
Never know of. Other hearts to touch the way
It would seem she touched mine.
I wonder if she remembers the sound of
My voice the way I remember hers, or
The way I remember which film she'd just hired.
She probably doesn't remember me at all.
Our lives intertwined for barely three hours
Before we parted company for the first and,
I hope in vain, not the last time.
The world is full of shadows waiting to be
Vanquished by the countless photons
Emitted by her smile, falling to Earth as
Words through this pen.
I hope she's seeking them out,
Illuminating lives the way she did mine.
Posted on 04/20/2004
Copyright © 2022 Richard Vince
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Anne Howe on 04/20/04 at 11:22 PM|
i love the way you allow us to share the thoughts in your head through your poetry ...another brilliant read
|Posted by Richard Trotter on 04/21/04 at 10:07 PM|
i liked the closing stanzas which were very effective and thoughtful. I thought the rest of the poem was a little flat however.