Forty years ago
She wrote me a note
Insubstantial
But ending preciously…

‘only yours’

In fountain ink
On a scrap paper
Written surreptitiously
But passionately
On a break period
Delivered through a common friend
And there wasn’t enough privacy
So it seemed
To read it alone
And not enough strength
To unfold that first call
Till the eyes
In youth’s first thirst
Spread it
In the stolen reflection
Of streetlight
In trembling hands
Barest words
Yet infinitely precious…

‘only yours’

She couldn’t be
For she was
Destined to be someone else’s
And leave me nothing
But her everything
In those two words
Time couldn’t stale…

‘only yours’

She
Possibly now a grandma
With everything
For she left me nothing
But two innocuous words
Barest infinite
Her everything
Mine too…

‘only yours’.