Sunday, 31 March 2013



Stepping out from the White Lodge
The two of them are like candles, one tall and white, one short and bright
She has a spark in her eyes as she looks up at him
And he puts his hand in the small of her back
And from this subtle movement anyone could know that they were both
Friends and lovers
I shake my head and remember
That moments are just moments
And some become memories
Frozen in time forever, but most disappear
As the seasons pass.
I am not envious, but I am conscious that these two will have their own distant memories
Soon enough.


I am alone among strangers on a train, and I see a young man crying
It is him
And he is alone
Clutching a piece of paper
It is a program
I see the words IN MEMORIAM and today's date
And her name: Emma
It is spring, but the weather is cold
And he is dressed for winter
A vermillion scarf around his neck
I meet his eyes, brimming with silent tears
He looks but doesn't see
And I feel my chest tighten
And shudder a windless breath
And lose myself in my own memories
Of that day long ago.
But now he and I are together,
Strangers alone with ourselves
On the same train.


I walk by the lodge down the hill
On a Sunday evening
Just as we used to do
The lights burn in the autumn haze
But I am alone
And the only dancers
Are the raindrops on the pavement
And the only music
Is the wind rustling through the trees.

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