Between the Hours

by Francine Schwartz

Between the hours
I think of you.
You touch me
through a memory
A whisper in the darkness
And I feel your hand
Just as it was
When first we met.
Our hands did all the talking then.

It’s the beginning
I think about most
The way you looked on the street corner
When I suggested
We meet
To talk about
Old times.
I had no idea what I was saying.

You knew I was crazy.
But then so were you.
I smile as I remember this.
It’s like an old song
Always playing
Somewhere in the corner
Of my mind.

Alone in my room,
I wonder if you hear me sometimes.
I talk to you so often.
And then I feel your hand on my shoulder.
Or I dream of you.
And all the things I didn’t say,
Are pouring out of me.
Like water.

And I’m so grateful.
Because if I had another chance
Or a million chances,
I would tell you what you already knew.
That I never stopped loving you
Either.

Sleep softly.


Copyright © 2009 by Francine Schwartz

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