I stopped explaining love too soon.
I didn’t listen to anything,
as the conversations rolled over me
those long green evenings
as the clouds cast passing shadows.
I ignored the amber signals of night offices
flashing by the train window.
I finally heard, when the leaves reddened
and fell across the wet sidewalk.
I should have listened.
I should have explained to myself:
That lack of love darkens from doubt to certainty.
That I would sound the lack,
and find its depth.
That I knew we would fail,
that we would give way,
that love would go,
that I would let it.
Copyright Kay Winter