First Sight
She says she can’t – but I remember When we first met, though not the day... I’d flicked my joint aside, and kicked the ember As I walked past the pavement where it lay Burning, and turning heard her asking me to stay. I looked above a garden wall into Eyes greener than I’d ever seen – More than the tree’s green leaves they watched me through, Or the long streaks of velvet moss between The brickwork of the wall, or anything more green. And, as in height of summer when we lie In a tree’s shadow, through the changing space Between its green leaves spread between the sky And our raised eyes, the sun’s hair sweeps and plays, The hair round those green eyes swept out across her face. ‘I saw you Friday night’ she said ‘At Claire’s.’ I turned with an ironic frown ‘How could I have missed you?’ (shaking my bowed head) She laughed, and asked me if I went to town. I nodded and said yes, and smiling she leapt down. We walked and talked; and, since that moment, we Have walked and talked together many ways... And (though she tells me no) I know that she, Through all the changes of five thousand days, Remembers that first time, no matter what she says.