I look for you in a crowd
You are not to be seen
Only a wave
Of salt-white faces
Images on a screen.
Someone distant: Can it be?
No
A trick, a figment,
A simple longing of the mind
Sudden panic
You won’t come.
I feel the gap you’d closed
Spring open with the force
Which cracks when comfort
Tumbles from its cosy latch.
Then you appear
Half an hour late: apologies,
A smile
A good excuse.
My longing turns to irritation
And then to longing again
None of this is proof of love
Nor is it to be denied.
