Flitting in and out of
Flight, no–light, or something
like that.
Seen then not; never
To be so again.
Behind is left
Untogetherness, that mystical
State of lonely being always sure
Things might have been different.

Like that time a long
While ago you thought was everything
Though ungraspable, like a faint
Aroma on the air.
Do you think she dreams it too?

When we share time and place and our spaces
Temporarily are together.
Mine is yours is mine.
It happened
To you and her, a brief caress of sameness
But what is left?
Isn’t it only you?