She’s a Wanderer Now.

It was a girl

she loved the sunshine

and we had each other,

of this I am certain.

Adrift now I think of her,

how she would walk me home after dark-

but only if the streetlights were on.

And if I was creeping out the window

to meet some boy

she would always follow,

and stand behind me

in the glare of his headlights

whispering-

don’t go;

always gone into the dark

when I looked back from the passenger seat.

She knew when I felt good,

we would both stretch out after dinner

cooling off in the low red sun.

Everyday growing and shrinking

together-

no strings no staples no glue-

We were connected the same

way as a heartbeat is to a star.

How surprisingly sudden it was

when I slipped from her,

rose from my bed and simply

walked down the road.

It was so early,

the Morning still had her curlers in-

was still draped in the glittering night.

I looked up to the changing sky

the grace of freedom.

I looked down- the flitter of loss

that we would never be together again,

of this I am certain.

The dead have no shadow.