For a long—long

Time I couldn’t remember

Your name—

The word for you

I had forgotten

But carried the image

Within me like

First love—a ghost that hid

In an empty room

Behind a door that was always

Closed—

In the country ruins

Of two lost souls

Around which the years

Of neglect and growth

Crumbled stone and mortar

Now made entry impossible—

But who sat in the drawing room

Sipping tea from white china

Without me—and sketched

A vision of you from memory?