Past Imperfect

‘Time does not bring relief; you
all have lied who told me time
would ease me of my pain;
I miss him in the weeping
of the rain; I want him
at the shrinking of the tide.’
(Edna St Vincent Millay)

Sitting with you by the River Cam;
it was raining. We sat beneath
your black and white umbrella
and watched the swans.

How serene, and unruffled
they seemed. Much like us;
standards to uphold.
Heaven forbid we’d break
the moral code. So

we merely brushed hands
and exchanged pleasantries.
Time was on our side
or so we thought...

Threw dreams in the river
as glibly as crusts to the birds
and let day follow day, whilst
we’d talk about the weather...
films we’d watch. How we‘d go
together … one of these nights.

Our passion for poetry; how
we often spoke of love – never
in our own words; only in those
we borrowed. Yet, it’s the things,
we didn’t do, I’ll most remember.