NOT OFTEN

 

Not Often

I do not think of you that often

now that winter’s here.

You are there still in memory,

though a pale glimpse of sun droplets,

rolling off still leaves, peppering

shine and shade on tired river flow.

 

I do not think of you that often

now that cold is coming.

You are the forgotten photo,

that turns up from time to time,

bright under knick-knack drawer dust,

a fading smile just remembered .

 

I do not think of you that often

now summer’s gone.

But I still feel your lips

stroke mine in a heady almost kiss,

a pause that made me wonder then

and makes me wonder still.

9 thoughts on “NOT OFTEN

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