I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

23 April 2011

To the Last Person I Kissed

Dear You —

as long as we’re both alive
you’re likely always to be
the last person I kissed,
and also the next person.

Mostly there’s only us,
and mostly that’s good.
Today, though, the house
suddenly felt empty.

I found myself thinking
what a quiet street, and how
if you die and leave me,
this could be an isolated life.

Then you said how strange
it felt, to be the only ones,
no other people here with us;
how you kept looking for them.

Even before that, you asked,
‘Where’s all our family?’
fretting that your cousin in Scotland
is slow to answer your emails.

The year draws in towards winter.
It’s a long holiday weekend.
We haven’t got a car, and it’s hard
for your painful legs to walk our street.

Yet, when I lie beside you
and say, ‘Yes, it’s just us two,’
you smile and say, ‘That’s good!
‘You’re enough for me,’ and we kiss.

Day 23 - The last person you kissed


  1. oh how lovely. I ache for that day.

  2. Oh, I wouldn't wish it too soon; it's a stage on a journey. :)