My Love

When will I see you, My Love? 

I arrived too early as I hate to be late,

For a booking at some funky old café, 

Replete with faded prints of David Bowie, 

And mis-matched junk shop plates. 

I stare at my watch as if checking the time, 

Acting like someone waiting for a friend, 

But knowing full well, I will eat alone. 

When will I see you, My Love?

I walk the coast paths where we took the kids, 

And I can see clearly where our paths have led. 

But I walk on my own now, 

And I feel uncomfortable when viewed by others. 

The sunshine and showers, 

The light and the grey, 

Offer no hope in the rainbow lit cliffs. 

When will I see you, My Love? 

I’m haunted by flashbacks of the days of our lives, 

Time and its memories that lead me astray, 

Like unwelcome phone calls at the break of the day, 

And grim-faced policemen who knock at your door, 

And well-meaning doctors who try to explain, 

With friends and relations who cry at your pain. 

Time and its memories again and again and again and AGAIN! 

But when will I see you, My Love? 

When will I see you, my friend?

Image: On the couch 1950s : Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming : Internet Archive 

If you would like to hear this poem adapted to an original song, original music, and with an accompanying video, please check out the following YouTube link.