The train whistles by
Bringing your name to my heart once again.
Clouds murky black and thick
Darken a huge expanse I know to be sky.
I want to fly there
But I am grounded by mass and gravity
And what I believe to be real.

Your cobalt blue vase rests quietly on my shelf
Settling in among other sentimentalities.
It sings in a whispered voice
About love bright and promise.
It's sad to me, the way you cared
And the path I took without crumbs away.

A comforting wind taunts
That I should have stayed (with you);
I should have run (to you)
And it tickles my skin the way you might
If I had.

The phone rings and I start every time,
Waiting for your voice to tell me to come home to you.

The train long and lonely rumbles by
Headed in your direction but never getting there either.
The moan of it is my own howl to the winter night.
It's sad to me, the way I miss
What I only believed was there,
Apparitious visions of a hopeful destination.
I must have dreamed it for the wistful memory
Dissipates into the summer mist of yesterday.

The phone rings and for one more moment there is hope.

03/15/2006

Author's Note: If I could feel the love of it again...

Posted on 03/15/2006
Copyright © 2024 Alison McKenzie