In the small hours
Imperfectly sharp images of our meeting
Slowly surface through sleep
Bursting the fragile meniscus of equilibrium.
Endless review ascribes significance
To the merest trifle and
Finds complicity in its absence.
“Boo! ”, you said and I smiled (well, grinned)
Comfortably familiar we sat together, apart.
And I recall with such fond clarity
Small gestures,
The removing of specs
Your consciously clever play on words
The avoidance of touch
Taking refuge in superficial familiarity
And then, leaving,
Steps in cadence
The thrill of your half-extended invitation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A beautiful poem perfectly capturing and expressing the hope and bittersweet tenderness of those feelings and memories. You have real talent Ann, please keep writing and posting. You have a lot to contribute to poetry.