It was me, not you.
It wasn't the right time.
I was still getting over my last poem.

We can still be friends,
but when I say friends,
know what I mean is friendly.
Know that I won't save your seat at my table.
They are all taken by my books
my clothes
my love for another.

But when I say friends,
also know that, years later,
when the pain that first brought you to me
is as distant and hazy
as the smoke from my first bridge burned,
I'll smile when I see you;
Note how the core of you is unchanged.
Even with your new look,
your melody rings the same.

Where did he go, the wily one
who swings from branch-to-branch?
The one with the toes like curly thorns
and spider claws for hands?

How did he whisk you off, away
so far from home and land?
I wish I had heard what you tried to say
as he dragged you along on the sand.

Cry, love, please cry
in a voice I can hear
and I will come near--I will come near.

When did you start to change your mind
about our young family fair?
When did you start to look behind
and step through the weeds and the tares?

What did he whisper when the wood
enclosed around your steps?
What made you ready to answer back
and tilt your heavy head?

Call, love, please call
with your voice aloud
and you will be found--you will be found.

Cry, love, please cry
in a voice I can hear
and I will draw near--I will draw near.

A shiny stone washed up onto a beach
So easy to discover and enjoy.
A crystal hewn from deepest mine
So valuable but hard to win.
I think I’ll choose the sea-washed stone
And leave the digging to the miners.
                ljm

Coming home is seldom as-the-crow-flies;
It's not a beeline, darling, it's a dance.