I am so sorry time went on.
Space stretched the minutes of the clock
and we did not drift,
but were pulled apart.
We had to sleep.
I put out my light,
where it would not flicker,
where in the sea breeze of my dreams,
it would guide you back,
but I woke,
not even laying my head down.
I woke, and there were ashes.
My sleep left me gray and cold,
and my light was gone,
and you were gone,
and I suffered loneliness like death.
Is that what life has done to us?
When we dream,
to wake up with empty arms,
with no farewell,
no promise to return.
No locket with the picture of our love,
the books we read to each other,
the rooms that became forever warm,
the glances over picnics,
and the rush of daylight
through your hair?
You left and I left,
because of time and sleep,
and the sheer weariness of burning,
of holding back the clock,
drowning out the drummer,
hoarding youth and hope,
until as un-caged birds
they flew away,
when we paused,
and fell asleep in each other’s arms,
and woke up alone.