by Richard Vince

It was a pilgrimage I often made then,
To where the city gives way to
Wooded hills and I could breathe again.

Then, one day, I saw her name
On a shop front, and I remembered
Our almost collaboration that
Could have become an almost friendship.

And somehow it was different.
The ice, that had so solidly kept us
Cold to one another, suddenly melted
In a newfound warmth that
Took us both unawares.

It was as though my mind’s eye
Opened and saw my memories of her
In a different light. I was different
To her too: a confident man displaced
The awkward youth from her memory.

And then it was gone. The spark,
The warmth, the irrepressible smile,
The wide eyes; all were consigned to
History as I reverted to my past self.

It was a pilgrimage I often made then,
Past the suburban pharmacy that bore
Her name; I could never forget
The chemistry that fizzled out
Just as it began.


Posted on 02/10/2013
Copyright © 2023 Richard Vince

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Angela Stevens on 02/19/13 at 06:53 PM

Such a promise of a union!

Posted by Sam Roberts on 02/21/13 at 04:45 PM

:) a great read! And yes, its good to be back thank you for asking :)

Posted by Morgan D Hafele on 02/26/13 at 02:48 PM

oh, it's funny, the curve balls we're thrown. i suppose it wouldn't be life otherwise though.

Posted by Nadia Gilbert Kent on 05/12/13 at 03:27 AM

I suppose the important thing is how much you liked yourself during the anticipatory phase, and if a shop window can remind you of it, perhaps it can pull it out of you again.

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