Last published
is not necessarily last met.
I could meet people over pages,
and files, and messages.
Over virtual coffee and biscuits.
Over a pizza and brunch.
Over politics and then lunch.
I could meet people
over all the food and drink.
I could see them
within every blink.
I could make friends in two's
over texts and our blues.
We talk about all that is gone
Happening now and now torn.
We crib, direct and maim,
We talk of all the pain.
Much has come and gone,
we are still singing our song.
If everything could tremble
we could have done it.
If there was a rumble,
we would have done it.
If we were born in a jungle,
we should have done it.
Last met
is not necessarily last seen.
I could see you in pictures.
On turfs unsold and plains.
On beautiful canoes and trains.
In parties and in games.
Through soil and refrain.
I could see you in pain.
In sharing and in gain.
We met through a window,
we met in self contain.
Much has wilted and waned,
we are still not to blame.
If a fist could crush concrete,
we are the saint.
If they fell with a tumble,
we left out the paint.
If a dream capsized,
we didn't dream to dream again.
Last seen,
is not for sure the last has-been.
is not necessarily last met.
I could meet people over pages,
and files, and messages.
Over virtual coffee and biscuits.
Over a pizza and brunch.
Over politics and then lunch.
I could meet people
over all the food and drink.
I could see them
within every blink.
I could make friends in two's
over texts and our blues.
We talk about all that is gone
Happening now and now torn.
We crib, direct and maim,
We talk of all the pain.
Much has come and gone,
we are still singing our song.
If everything could tremble
we could have done it.
If there was a rumble,
we would have done it.
If we were born in a jungle,
we should have done it.
Last met
is not necessarily last seen.
I could see you in pictures.
On turfs unsold and plains.
On beautiful canoes and trains.
In parties and in games.
Through soil and refrain.
I could see you in pain.
In sharing and in gain.
We met through a window,
we met in self contain.
Much has wilted and waned,
we are still not to blame.
If a fist could crush concrete,
we are the saint.
If they fell with a tumble,
we left out the paint.
If a dream capsized,
we didn't dream to dream again.
Last seen,
is not for sure the last has-been.
I saw you last year in a canoe during the fall
ReplyDeleteWe were trying to wade through the still waters
Our efforts in a rhythm, but against each other
I accepted our fates, I am a congenital fatalist
Next I saw you through a window,
I wanted to climb over the sill to you
But I was replete with the past, and you were pregnant with the future
You wouldn't wait, I wouldn't haste.
Next I saw you at the little house perched on a hillock
I was tending to the simmering tea, blinded by the steam
You were devouring broth and bread, resting your head
For you had a precipice to conquer, your smile the only precipice I wanted to conquer.
Fortnight later, I lay on the smithereens of my dreams, underneath a galaxy of stars
One ear waiting to hear your footsteps, and the other deafened by the palpitating fist sized
The wet grass underneath was my death bed, the sky my mirror
The dew didn’t feel cold; my outstretched hands longed to hold yours
You came, you came in a whiff, alas you came back to my corpse
We met, you saw, your body trembling for a little thaw.
Last met is not always last seen
But this time I was in a hurry, I saw death but never saw you coming.
I’ll leave you with this truth, you’re my last seen
And my only has been.