TRuth

I hear a skein of geese
A plaintive, longing, honking
As they seek their unseen destination
And I wonder if you hear them too

I see the sun set slowly
Low in the winters sky, day ending
In its weird, pink, splendour
I think you might see the same

I see you, when I am out
Time and again my heart leaps
Only to find it's someone
A little similar in height, or type of hair

I hear your voice as I wake
And startled, leave my sleep in joy
Then it fades to silence
No matter how hard I listen

I miss those lips, that noisy hair
I miss those eyes
But most of all I miss
The soul behind them

A Funny Old Life