sometimes
a whole day passes
and I am left the same –
no less than words would bury
a shadow of me remains

some nights
I fear the crying
of night birds on the rise –
thought is splintered into rhyme
and I dare not close
my eyes

sometimes
I wake beyond the dream
where there’s no proof of us –
no morning I might trade again
for the memory
of your touch

it’s not the same
we’re not the same
as once we were a longing filled
it seems my mind has forgotten –
what my soul
remembers still

. . .