Maybe
It was a Wednesday,
A normal middle of the week day.
Or was it a Sunday, all the more
Portentous.
Did I wear green
After debating the monochromes.
Weren’t you in that gray bespoke suit
The one you got for a song on 81st.
I remember a scent.
Sweet, apple blossoms perhaps.
Isn’t that our favorite song playing suddenly,
Somewhere.
Did you lean over to stroke my cheek
For no reason whatsoever.
I might have put my arms around your neck
Surprising you from behind.
Was it a long time we stood there
Just like that.
Are we unfazed by the long wait for a table,
The sudden downpour,
The lineup for a cab.
Is that you mimicking Walter Raleigh,
Until I, the winsome damsel,
Protests no.
Do I imagine
Such enrapture,
Such fervency.
Or has time and yearning
Simply made it so.
A sequence of my poems has been published in a hardcover book entitled The Music of Leaving Poems by Tricia McCallum
One Response
This poem wonderfully captures the ambivalence we have when we come to recognize that we do not have memories, but create them through our selections of images, most often after the actual fact.