Your absence
holds the shape
of your face.
I repeat your name
in the night.
This chair
where you sat;
those days
in the park -
how far we wandered
in those days;
our manners delicate,
the air gentle.
A discontented man
would stare at you;
a burdened woman
look away
and feel
that she was you,
back when ...
and one day, you’d be her.