by Richard Vince

In my mind’s eye, there is
A vague picture of what she saw
That evaporates when I try
To look at it properly, to
Take in the details.

There is a metaphor in there,
Somewhere, as there always seems
To be, but for so many years
It was as lost to me as she was,
Hiding by remaining exactly where
I did not bother to look.

Perhaps there is another in
What I imagined, with tragic
Romance, with romantic tragedy,
To be the moment our aeroplanes
Passed in mid air, both heading
Closer to one another’s homes,
But not quite.

The idea that there was probably,
Almost certainly, a time when
Our feet felt the firm foundation
Of the same continent did not
Even occur to me: it was always
Easier to focus on the difficulties
Than accept the possibility
Of possibilities, to feel separate
Shifting sands that could never
Support us both.

As the ridiculousness of it all,
Of us, finally begins to sink in,
I realise that the person I miss
May never have existed; that
The person I may have loved
Was someone I never knew.


Posted on 09/02/2019
Copyright © 2020 Richard Vince

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