While reading yellowed letters, each word you ever sent,
eyes blurred for misted sorrows, I feel my heart lament
the crossing we came to, and the parting of ways;
the goodbye as the sky fell, ending our days.

Evenings are lonesome, not as they’d once seem,
and night still arrives, though devoid of a dream.
I wake to each morning, yet morning is grey,
and the bed half cold; emptiness where you lay.

Those lazy, blue summers, I fondly remember,
and the magic we shared in the whites of December.
Memories … my comfort, and time’s gifts to keep
my inner-child warm, through naivety’s sleep.

On tides of thought, I sail far to your shore,
where once I found happiness, anchored before.
Now I wonder, should I know true love again,
when clouds may part, on a day without rain?




© Stuart Higginson. 20-6-2007.

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