RESTORATION

He sat and spoke

openly, and

I was absorbed.

I forgot my years,

or—more precisely---

my age.

I forgot my flesh

which has spent years

under the sun.

I was again

the bright and shining

person I never truly knew

Because youth

cannot see itself.

How may I thank him

for this gift?

This restoration?

Graham

I shall be sorry

From every widow that I look

For all that I have failed to do for you.

One, 

then another

Day 

goes by

Making a year and more,

Changing nothing

Why is there

Any

Expectation?

Waking at night,

Sleeping at sunrise,

I turn on this cold bed,

Breathing the cold air.

Where you are

Is something

I do not know

Why did I look

To see you there

And then

Not look away?

Yet, were that day today

Knowing all this

I would look again.