When did you become
A somnambulist, my dear?
Where the disconnect?
About the time your ache
For outlying places began to moon-wake?
I get the sense
You knew long before me
Our days of limerance had culminated.
As if something remote
Had stolen you away.
Do you remember the twinkle
Of twilight in each other's arms
Or was this phosphene?
What then was love? Cafuné?
It's no matter.
The sweet smell of rain
In the air now tells me
Something's brewing, and
You won't be happy
Until what was "us" has been
Washed away.