An old battered volume of poems
Stuffed into the back of the drawer
Was the place I found this page of rhyme
And here I sit in awe
Pondering over the lines
Of "A Sunken Evening"
On this wet Friday night.
The light has long gone out of the sky
I sit and wonder why -
Did you really mean to throw it all away that day.
Remember - when I came round.
The knock of my heavy hand on your door
The sound of echoing emptiness since your lover went away
So many days before.
Do you regret now
Giving away your lifetime's collection of books,
Musical instruments and such
Or are your memories liberated
No longer hated
By thoughts of her in all that you touch?