You hoped you would reach me,
to tell me that you could not
survive the winters, and the whole
aspect of time, without me
trying to figure out the world
with you.
I stood confidently at the top
of a mountain, watching the
shadows begin to play
hide-and-seek
at our cottage on the cliff.
The garden was no longer
ripe, but I still watered it
in trying hope
that you'd see the color
from far away.
The sun still fell
until it died coldly
on my lap.....
flickering like the image
I burned for you in my
memory-
abolished.
Maybe you never remembered
the desire of my love...
Maybe it was never bright enough,
and you grew cold while I stayed up
preparing candlelight...
Could you have been swept away,
could you have given up the
feeling of waiting
for me?
