at this hour of our parting
i hold your hand to feel its last warmth
you do not look at me
to my glances
you have chosen an evasion
you wore your dark glasses
you enter a certain darkness
where you think
i cannot see your eyes with tears
clouds drift at your face
you go
finding your place inside the
predeparture area
i wave my hand and left you
you are gone
the plane slices the clear skies
i know
from up there
i am but an ant below the haze
distance does
the inevitable forgetting
RIC S. BASTASA
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-this-hour-of-separation/
