Dec. 8, 1975*

Dear lovers,
we await your arrival
We are standing in a bus terminal
Frowns frozen on our face
Hands frozen on our watch
We are waiting in an empty home
Daily we are keeping house
Nightly we are trying to keep
your half of the bed warm

We look for you too often
in empty chairs
and old conversations
We feel sorry for ourself too often
in shaving glass mirrors
And we fear old age
when we comb the cobwebs
from vintage sideburns

The room is not at rest
even the windows miss you
the curtains refuse to open!

Dear lovers, we are lonely
We have tried everything
We have spent centuries writing
poems to you
We have wasted our life time
singing songs of you

We know you will not be back
That is why we wait for you.

James H. Webb