Your going away
Was ordained
The moment you were born.
Your return is written
But only in draft form--
Who can say
What we will feel
After all that
Time
Growth
Sorrow?
i find you always
Unexpectedly
In the flotsam of
Domestic duty
You appear
In the guise of
A tube of cream
A shoe tossed
With the flick of a foot
A blouse still exhaling
Your scent --
A list
In your hurried
But competent hand.
When you return
My embrace will suffuse you
With those lost moments
And me with
Your next
Departure.
--Mr. Gobley
