As we grow older, the years
Become shorter, and I wonder
Why they once felt so
Significant.

The days are brightening again:
I am of spring as she is
Of autumn. Perhaps we could
Have balanced one another
After all.

They were the sunset seasons,
And as I enjoyed them
Alone, far from the
Madding crowd, I always
Imagined sharing them with her.

*
So many of my words I just
Didn’t understand: I knew
What they meant, but not
What I meant.

Had I realised then, would it
Have made any difference?
The years have shortened,
But the miles are constant.

She remains in that
Distant land that my memories
Have made semi mythical, and
Now she seems almost
That way too, as if
We cannot possibly have
Breathed the same humid air or
Walked the same cracked pavements.

It has become almost as
Implausible as that which
A small part of me still insists
Could have happened.

03/04/2015

Posted on 03/25/2015
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince