Friday, 3 July 2009

But Not Quite Yet

I’ll get over you; my friend, I know I will;
Even when the dog completes once more
A circuit of the house; peers expectantly
Into yet another room. Then lifts her head to see;
Or ear to hear your footfall on the step;
Familiar sounds; your voice; your key turned in the lock.
Then turns her face to me as if to demand
Where you have gone? She does not understand.

I’ll get over you; dear friend, I know I shall,
Even when I turn a page and see,
Forgotten between the pages of a book,
A photograph that cruelly tells me how you look
When leaning, as you did, across a table
And gazing in my eyes, you smiled at me.
You smiled; a photograph in a restaurant.
I’ll get over you. Don’t think I can’t.

I’ll get over you my friend; of course I shall,
The Common, where late Autumn’s evening brought chilling air;
We walked in gathering darkness in that place.
Now in my mind I turn to see your laughing face.
You smiled, you laughed, the dog and you in unison;
A dog, a boy; with sparkling eyes, with windswept hair.
Layered ghosts of these and how it was when first we met.
I’ll get over you. But not quite yet.

I’ll get over you, my dearest one; my friend. Oh yes.
Even when I see two other lovers in the evening light,
Or turn my face away, when in the cinema
Two lovers kiss. And then my aching heart asks where you are;
And do you ever think of me and fondly reminisce?
Or have you even now set all thoughts of me to flight?
These memories that bind you to me, I will forget.
But not quite yet. But not quite yet.

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