I still carry the mark we agreed on,
the pale reminder of the journey forsworn –
always back to each other.
Memories run fickle
off the tributaries of my mind
but my ears still know
the echo of a thousand love songs
you whispered to me
in a marriage bed
filled with ticking clocks.
I don’t want this time
to be coloured with the bitterness
of impending separation,
of the mind’s clever trick
of ownership or possession.
The dance of together and apart
is that of twisting kois,
my watercolour fish,
swimming in circles for centuries.
I turn away from endless faces,
waiting for recognition to halt me,
and even as logic protests,
sureness shouts that our day will come again
just as the seasons –
we’ll fall back into each other’s arms
and the hearts we’ve shared,
pried open for pearls over and over,
never tiring of the chase.