After I left, on my first night
Prompted my journal, describe your now past life
Perhaps, things like:
The telephone boxes,
                     The theatre, the foxes,
                                            Ben, Battersea or the eye.
At worst, at best, simple a request
But against my behest,
I Immediately flustered
As only memory my mind mustered:
                  That feeling felt when I caught your eye
              
              And I just wasn’t ready to ask myself why
                 
I wasn’t able to say         
                                                                ­       goodbye.

I guess what often said is true,
Like what last heard to me from you:
                     You run from things you cannot deny.