Watching You

 

I walk alone the streets
we walked when you
were by my side – alone
with sense of gratitude
that time cannot revise,
alone but bought in reverie
of goodness that abides

the windows were pretence
to me and goods displayed
all wares of hollowness; I’d
lived my life in fields that
fallowed every other year –
yet here it seems the wend of
seasons really never ends

you found the space to wear
my chariness – a coffee shop,
a superette where sausages
were real, not imitations of the
fare I feared to never see
again – and yet you found
and bought them there

a thousand streets as if each
one was sparkling new, the
never-ending panoply of views
you drank with effervescent
eyes – but I, in truth, missed
all the views for simple wont
of watching you...
© 15 December 2008, I. D. Carswell