Going - A Poem

Long before it was time

she stood up, but hesitating, sat down again,

and sitting, looked upon his silent breathing.

She covered with her pale hand

the rising and falling of his breast;

drew it down his dark skin

in a gentle wave of goodbye.

It was long before the time,

but she stood up

and having said goodbye, quietly,

she dressed and went.

Then after summer, winter came,

crisp and crystal clear with command.

Cold, it drove into the days,

stretching hours,

leaving black nights that washed away

white winter snow.

London, 1979