4U: an unfathomed love


a person in my life 

I never again may see:

a person in my life 

I never may hug goodbye;

a person in my life 

who will never leave my life,

even as she 

never may return 

to my uncertain crazed domain.

And I love her more than words can may;

I love her being 

as much – 

though no less than –

her ways of doing, and seeing,

and living and holding, 

and talking,

and walking: those beautiful strides

of a woman in her time.

And I love her city, and that voice which once 

called my name;

and I love her way of doing stuff:

how tough and wise she truly is;

what is this love of hers 

so weird:


bloody unfathomed 

by this man I am

who writes before you, unable to decipher 

the games she’s played so wonderfully 

with me.

And so it is I realise this: 

much more important than lover out there 


“Be dear friend,

unending soul!”

And so all I want of U, dear 

C, is 

that reverting to 

that grand being 

we might surely be:

for me to become that 

one more person 

who has the honour and noble state

of occupying freely 

a place in pantheon of treasured, 

truly belived 


And this is why 

I aspire no longer to 

being the lover above 

all lovers,

but – rather – to become

a man you’d 

one day, once more, 

share a simple plate with; 

share a trait with;

share a pic or two 

of thrive;

and see enough

to know he’d be

your friend, quite 


beloved and 

beliked as all,

on all those curious 

days of strife,

now converted wise …

… in plays of life.

So bring us now 

this end of love: I settle 

not for less 

but more 

than ever before I was able;

than ever before

I never 

did mettle grasp.

To be at your side 

without a lover’s 


overbred fits and starts

and maddening whys,

and saddening sighs,

and exaggerating mind:

oh, to be writing 

a future of collaborative 


that location and role in your life, 

right now, 

is what i really



part of:


straight and true,


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