When I looked at you, I looked as you ought look at me.
I watched you, and what I saw could be you.
Was what I felt what you felt?
Was my body ever given to you?
Was your body ever given to me?
With all the leaves gone almost from the trees,
I did not walk briskly away from the thought of you.
It was cold and icy outside, and soon it would be the snow.
I looked at the sky, at the high open place
Along the avenue where you were the last time I saw you
I tried to feel what you felt - before you left.
Leaving for there where all must go.
Published on June 28, 2025 22:07