To John
Oh John, I love you,
and yet to tell you
is impossible.
I need you,
but when you're near
I say no more than:
"Hello, it's nice of you to ask me" or
"I'm so glad you could come."
The day I met you first I knew;
that night your picture stayed inside my mind
for hours,
but now it's harder.
I cannot find your face for longer than a flash,
and then distorted.
I see you every day, but still the picture dims;
I know you now by everything but touch,
though bodies met
Occasionally
In doorways,
and always by design,
Though touch, to me so precious,
to you is
unimportant.
You always will have friends,
and I
Acquaintances,
for I will always love you as you were
those years ago
Written in 1971, remembering a meeting in 1965 and all the loss all the way through. Copyright 2002 It's Only Me from Across the Sea, to whom comments can be sent.
