mirage

The goldfinch bathes.

The robins are singing vespers.

Here again, our evening rituals.

And there was love.

And there is love.

And there will be,

but stop.

Moment to moment.

I am not trying to trick you with words.

I cannot say what I mean.

I only want to tell you

how I was like water –

how I sat without waiting and watched as the light left –

how I was bathed in gray until I became something barely known or seen.

I only want you to know,

once,

I was here.