Half Laid Table.

It was in your special place
you had learned to kiss there.
Your first love, tie-dyed in summers
tones of appreciative lust.

That once innocence – swayed
by the colour of her hair.
Like a fire piled high
burning you –
she
your secret smile that still lights
the corners of your eye

God I envied her, her freedom, giving
without means to harm.
Feelings of the flesh coursing
through blood -
Such undivided closeness
a liaison of touch
the white of whiteness lost forever
yet always to be remembered!

I tell you my imaginings are lucid
though never settled, in their ease
of spoken truths.

'I think we will be OK', you say
yet, not concerned enough
to even look my way.

I mumble only

Do you really think that love
can remain -
conversing across a half laid table?...