AbsenceI snigger with derisionMore Like This
at this continued, resolute hope;
my pitiful self-deception.
Fool enough to still wait
every day, pining for him to pull up
outside my garden gate.
Want to believe he sometimes comes here
finds some excuse to come to, or pass through
this quaint, market town
just to be near.
Stupidly cling to the notion that
when out on my usual walk
I'll spot his car nearby.
Disbelief, sheer and utter relief
recognize that uncertain grin:
sense he'd been too afraid to knock.
The times I've longed for the gift of telepathy.
Wondered, would it be any different
if he could feel me yearn and plead?
all I want, is to find him stood at my front door.
But, in reality . . .