Daily Poetry
she likes to hear me talk of you.
After i have had a few drinks.
She watches me speak
hangs on every word.
She thinks it is beautiful
how I love you
without any demands
or hope.
I am a woman now.
Too old to pretend.
She loves to hear me talk about you.
About your face and your eyes and your mouth.
She rarely stops me
and when she does it is to sigh happily or say how much she loves me.
It is so poetic to her.
How much I love you.
She loves to hear me talk
about how I used to walk around london at night
with ear phones in my ears.
Thinking of yopu fondly.
How I used to walk and think how beautiful it was
how
I walked in the darkness
while you walked in the sunshine.
So far
from one another.
I tell her how
I used to comfort myself
by thinking that though
we walked in different time zones.
There were times
that were synchronized
by chance and serendipity.
Times when at the exact same time
we both looked up.
She loves to hear me talk of you.
After I have had a few drinks.