Strange to say, those memories are barely more than water now;
fluid, indistinct, and always rushing away from me;
that they were ever more is immaterial, I am not who I was.
I do, of course, acknowledge that you have been part of that change,
and for the good, I have not forgotten your part, and I am thankful.
But I have difficulty remembering you. Your face refuses to settle,
more or less as water spills, it refuses to fix in my mind;
your voice comes and goes, otherworldly and faint, like a signal on the shortwave.
More strikingly though, your spirit has become remote from me;
not by choice, but with the passing of time, the mountain of featureless days
that I’ve kicked up behind me, the dust of accumulated years between us;
distance has anaesthetised me; I no longer remember the feeling of you being here.
No comments:
Post a Comment