you were then, the age i am now–
i think about this in the dark and
scoop your image from my memory–
your young children will be grown,
your hair, fully silver–
of course when i meet you in my dream later that night,
we are as we were–
and i am desired once again
it was the emptiness of your gaze,
and the tilt of your head
that made a melancholy blanket of longing
linger past midnight and into the following day
You looked cold and wistful on the raised platform.
I wanted to touch your solid hand, but was discouraged
by the security cameras protecting your solitary stance.
