Oh you, oh me, oh everything we were.
These ashes into which we crumbled,
This dawn in whose low light we saw
All the cracks unflatteringly picked out.

Those were the days: right there.
Days of change, of growth and
Contraction, of maturation and
Regression, of analysis. How much
Of ourselves we owe to that time.

It was like a comet; like the stars
Themselves had swooped down from
The heavens to show me what
They really were all along:
Secrets, lies, all the things we
Shared only with the sky.

We let the clouds fade into the
Background, though we always
Said we would not. We were
So inevitably distracted.

I don’t think about them any more.

Somehow I feel abandoned, even though
I know that is not how it was.
I hate that the only thing I get right
Is the way I feel about how wrongly
I feel about things.

Some days the city is an ocean
In which I have been cast adrift,
But the chimes always centre me
And give me something by which
To steer.

Every day I hear them, and
I do not think of you.

01/14/2014

Posted on 03/21/2014
Copyright © 2025 Richard Vince