Watching – poem

This was written for a friend, who will likely never know this was written for them, but it was just the same, and it says all it needs to say.

PS – it is a rare occasion that I write poetry. Consider this a blue moon.

Watching

Watching

as the light fades from your eyes

day

by

day

by

day

makes every moment precious to me.

Like wine to a savior

or

conception in a barren womb.

Your touch is cold but it’s the memory of fire

that keeps me warm.

And as your ferry slips slowly from my sight

day

by

day

by

day

I cherish these lost moments, these stolen kisses, these shared war stories.

I remember –

a night spent in the dark where the only light

was the friction from our bodies as they moved in unison beneath a falling sky.

I remember –

holding your hand when your sister died, and holding it until you fell asleep and finally let me go.

I remember –

how we were going to grow old together, never knowing how young old really was to you.

And I know.

I know about them.

I know it is before another hearth you warm yourself, and that I only have rest to offer in the bed we share.

I know you are lost to me.

And I know you were found by another.

But I have the memory of fire to keep me warm at night.

I have the phantom of your kiss to remind me of the years.

And I have the cold certainty that it is better to let you leave than to force you to go.

Watching as you float away, to shores I’ll never know.

Author: Chris Ringler

Writer, blogger, reviewer, artist, arts and cultural events coordinator, and semi-professional weirdo. Author of a heap of books from horror to fairy tale to kid's.

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