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