Where
How is it the landscape does not care
What is missing?
The sun's ups and downs,
Rivers carving canyons deeper,
Building of buildings
Errands of people
Go on and on
It's of no matter at all to those in cars driving by
Or the guy hawking newspapers in front of Dunkin Donuts
That I almost
Cannot remember
The sound of you.
Or the exact tincture of brown green
in your eyes set close together
Things that were you were here.
I know you strolled these streets
Read in your glasses by a lone light
In a window on Temple Street
You wandered the west.
Across miles and others your heart unpacked
And found your ground
Which was us.
I was - am
Still here
Captive to the earth's doings.
How is it you have no ground now?
No one who passes knows I'm missing pieces.
I look for you
Wander men's minds listening for parts of you
Nothing is yes or no.
Everything is not enough.
You said This too will pass
But you didn't say what would be left.
So minutes travel.
Days turn.
Years flip over on calendar pages.
The myrtle trails without you.
And the roses don't know
You are not looking at them.
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