I saw him today.
My husband. Still my husband.
Snow on the roof, they used to say.
And fire in the cellar?
I looked at him and wondered.
Did I extinguish the embers
that for a short space
before we became so hopeless
I tried to blow to life again?
Today he sat on my sofa.
I looked into his face
Saw that it was grey
like his hair. Like his suit.
We talked about money.
Currency that he understands well.
We discussed fairness.
We tried not to touch upon the hell
that my desires had led us to.
We acknowledged my point of view.
We were civilised. We apologised
and each held our tongue
in response to the requests of the other.
And in the end we almost agreed.
And I saw my ex-lover
out of the door.
And I thought of the sadness
of the snow on the roof
that once was a halo of sunlight.
And the fire that lived within him
when I would touch him.
When we used to sit on my sofa
side by side, I on his lap,
with love in our eyes
and desire in our bodies.
Not facing across a room,
with money on our minds.
When he had gone, I wept for the past,
as lovers have done before,
do now
and surely will again.
Janice Windle
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pains-and-regrets-collection-a-lovers-tryst/
