pass a tree like ours

Turning around I see your chair is empty, you have been won over by the world, taken by the city. You stand behind me with your arms around me and your head resting on my shoulder, just a ghost now lover.

Where you see them hand in hand; feel your own without mine and when you see them kiss; know that my mouth is here. When you gaze upon the moon; know that I am gazing too and when you pass a tree like ours, think of me; lost, left, loose.

I saw a pretty face today; with a smile like yours, dancing on the side walk to my music. Brought me a coffee she did and a man about your age wearing boots like yours winked at me in the subway. His eyes were friendly, he wanted.

Walking in the park, watching dogs play, I suddenly thought you were at home making tea and waiting for me. The sun was shining so bright, I couldn’t even feel the fear or the cold only life rearranging reality, meandering, weaving its beauty around me.

So I smoked a cigarette and strummed my guitar with the same nonchalance as you and when a young couple asked me for directions I said I was from out of town and didn’t know the way, it was not a lie metaphorically speaking.

Part of the process is being upset and reset. Part of the recess is being restless for rest. The blankets are cold, the bed is cold, the night is old but I am starting fresh. I was never one to get sentimental without you, talking of past events, back to myself, older now and wiser somehow.