To see them there and...know,
It was a different life.
Knowing changed the way of it,
Shaved the edges with its knife
And made the simple sight of them
A thing quite hard to bear:
Knowing, despite the sound of them,
They were not really there.
Before...it had been easier,
When they were merely here.
And he could talk with Charles
And even share a beer.
It was...all right...to joke with him,
To sit next him on the lawn.
But...now...it was a different thing...
And the pleasure of it gone.
Now...he must ignore their plea,
And turn his head away
Despite their firm insistence
That they had come to stay.
Now...he must deny them...
Though Marcee still tugged at his heart,
And it was never easy
To keep away, apart.
They paced him down the walkways
And up the flights of stair...
How could they be so real
And yet not even there?
Knowing, yes, it was harder
And the ease of it had left,
Leaving only feats of will
That made him feel bereft.
He truly missed their friendship,
The talks that they had had.
He'd often turned to Charles
When he was feeling sad.
But now...sigh...now he knew it
That they never did exist.
But, oh, how he would look at them,
How they were sorely missed.
But he could not strive for balance
And make it in this place
Did he not deny them,
And keep to his own space.
But every day he chose it,
And grappled with his will,
To keep them safely silent...
But, oh, he missed them still.
Jo Anzalone