At 30,
you could only
look ahead.
At 55,
I could only
look back.
We only looked
in the same direction
when we looked
at each other.
Looking at you
was all my pleasure,
but future and past
pulled too hard
to overcome.
There are lilacs now,
new lovers,
fresh beginnings.
Still,
I remember
your eyes
looking back
at me,
greener
than even this
soft,
new spring.
–mce