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.