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Martha

by Richard Vince

There is an empty seat waiting for you,
On my left, just where you used to sit
For those few miles that always
Flew by so quickly.

Your whole souled smile is etched
Indelibly in my memory, but your name
Has long since worn away. Therefore,
My imagination has chosen
What is considers a fitting one
For your joyful soul.

We could have been friends, I am sure,
But my eyes and heart spent
Too much time looking elsewhere
To notice what I was missing.

Call it cowardice, call it
Social ineptitude, call it
Malcontentedness: my teenage
Overenthusiasm for looking the wrong way
Cost me too much joy, too much
Love. I dearly wish that I could
Grow out of it at last.

Meanwhile, I sit and wait, as I have
For so much of my life, in the
Pathetic hope that I have remembered
The right name after all, and that
It will really be you who will come
And sit next to me.

If you are cursed with my sort of
Memory, I hope you smile when
You think of me, just as you did
When you talked to me
Half our lives ago.

05/23/2016

Posted on 07/25/2016
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince

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