How things
become us,
how,
wherever they are,
they remind me of you.
Yesterday, it was a mongrel pup
looking at me with lonely eyes.
Today, it was a happy wren,
tweeting on the window-sill.
Worse was when I saw this girl
with a stich undone on her dress,
& I saw you,
impatient with a rampant thread.
I often walk into strong winds
and see your hair look lovely & wild.
I wish I could say -
the mornings bring you back,
what with their soft light;
but things pass, they do,
the way you did,
the way I do.
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