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Maybe

Maybe

 

It was a Wednesday,

A normal middle of the week day.

Or was it a Sunday, all the more

Portentous.

Did I wear green

After debating the monochromes.

Weren’t you in that gray bespoke suit

The one you got for a song on 81st.

 

I remember a scent.

Sweet, apple blossoms perhaps.

Isn’t that our favorite song playing suddenly,

Somewhere.

Did you lean over to stroke my cheek

For no reason whatsoever.

I might have put my arms around your neck

Surprising you from behind.

Was it a long time we stood there

Just like that.

 

Are we unfazed by the long wait for a table,

The sudden downpour,

The lineup for a cab.

Is that you mimicking Walter Raleigh,

Until I, the winsome damsel,

Protests no.

 

Do I imagine

Such enrapture,

Such fervency.

Or has time and yearning

Simply made it so.

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1 Comment

  1. This poem wonderfully captures the ambivalence we have when we come to recognize that we do not have memories, but create them through our selections of images, most often after the actual fact.


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Writer and Poet

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Tricia McCallum

Always be a poet. Even in prose.
Charles Baudelaire.

In essence I am a storyteller who writes poems. Put simply, I write the poems I want to read.[…]

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