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For Nene, now in U.P. Campus

 

I see no signs of you

Here and now.

The mornings are silent again.

Dr. Hook doesn’t sing

His sweetest-of-all lyrics anymore.

The evenings are scentless again.

Though the bed sheet smells new

The red blankets never share your warmth.

The days are terribly calm again.

Your brown shoes beneath the green box

Are now dusted, unpolished, ignored.

 

I won’t want to retrieve them now

Or have them fixed downtown.

I know it will soon leave my mind, easily.

 

You forgot one thing when you left--the door, ajar.

 

 

February 1998