I spend half my morning
Thumbing through yesterday's clues
For that one or two moments
When I might have been conscious of you
What only in afterthought
Too late is caught and mended
But now I know you'll be back
In the other half of my morning
As usual striking me dumb
Far from the miracle of speech
Unworried you will come
'It is I' you will say
And only tomorrow will tell
If I was listening well
No comments:
Post a Comment