Lost & Found (with Trudy Babchak)

I found myself awhile ago
between crisp pages
of that book, still unread,
and when I saw your note
--the one inscribing the gift--
it took me back to a time
I thought I could forget,
(we never met again)
but now it seems I did not,
because there they were--
dry ink as if wet--
silent, sweet, and flowing
without artifice or intent,
and good as Nature's gold.

 

What you said to me then

suddenly became now,
and I heard you saying,
"Yes, I am here,"
then felt a gentle pull,
like astonished regret,
then a decisive tug
and I knew who you were
and who I am, your arms
fully extended, reaching,
and then closing,
and I accepting all,
as if you were never gone.

On 2.28.13

Poem: Kay Weeks

Painting: Trudy Babchak.