One Square Missing Poem by Judith Vriesema

I saw you chase the moon one night when snowflakes danced
around a streetlamp on a cobblestone street.
I heard the dream beckon when the wind fell around my footsteps
as I made my way home to Reykjavik.
I felt the breath of a candle at five PM.
The warmth of kitchen scents enveloped my senses making me whole once again.
It was always that time of day when evening fell,
and people talked in circle conversations around old wooden tables
whilst steam from cooking pots played with the edges of lace curtains hung upon darkened windows; .
this was the time that I missed you most.
Sometimes,
here in this place,
I cannot stand the lack of candles.
It is the foreigness,
the lack of laughter and car doors slamming in cobblestone driveways
that I cannot abide.
I feel like I am falling,
falling away from my self as an artist.
I cannot paint here.
There is no sound of the wind echoing across the sea.
There is no warmth of candlelight in the snow.
There are only meaningless highwways
and streams of endless headlights without respite..
I miss the bistros of France and the castles overgrown with ancient ivy hiding windows to the past.
I miss the candles and the chestnut trees that have been growing for centuries in french medieval towns.
I miss the grounds where my father stood and gazed in scientific awe
at the prism of a rainbow.
I miss my life.
I miss reykjavik.
I miss the place where I fell in love.
I miss the sound of footsteps in the snow.