The world is the same

for you and for me—

What we see

depends on

where we stand.

The stars were not to blame
Nor the ocean between us
Or even that dreadful place
We used to call home

It was only you and me
Always a little too wrong
And maybe just a little
Too late

Eleven years ago
Tonight
As the early
Autumn evening sky
Had just begun
To dim the light
You ceased to be
With my hand in yours
Shouting your name
With no response
Then those angels
Gently laid you back
Speaking sweetly
As you went
A thin rivulet
Of crimson
The sign
That you were spent
So I'll think of you often
And I'll send love with this
On September the 19th
About a quarter past six.