Lover or friend
Would you leave tomorrow’s tale
a virgin sheet,
on which no pattern of life,
by hand encrypted, will lie,
and future meet……..
such that I must ask of others also, were you real?…..
or has memory jumbled truth
with wishful want, erroneous sight
and false feeling.
Your scent is freed
as I press your clothes to my face,
yet no print of a lover confused, stains them from garment
into shroud of filigree lace.
Perhaps it is I who would bring
this story to its end,
who would write a final chapter,
if so, I would know with certainty
whether the premiss past
was lover or friend.