Friday, June 21, 2024

the intruder Dec. 2013

  


I feel her

Through my finger tips

As I touch the key board

She touched here,

Feel her as if

She is still here,

Haunting this cubbyhole

I have inherited

With my all but

Glorious return.

I touch the keys

And touch her,

Each stroke

Stirring up

Strong emotions

I have done my best

To suppress.

I touch her

Each time

I press down

On a key,

Feeling the vague

Vibrations,

Feeling a sense

Of warmth

I know is really

Not there.

I feel her fingers

Touching mine

Remotely,

A spiritual connection,

Neither of us

Intend,

And know

She is already too

Distant to feel it, too,

Perhaps I simply wish

For it to be her

Her presence

Indelitable

Toughing me

With each thing

I touch in this space

That once was hers,

Knowing she was

Once here

And this is

Her space,

I am the intruder.

 



email to Al Sullivan

No comments:

Post a Comment