Thursday, November 17, 2016
Niagara Sonnet Sixteen
If you have loved me, I have not complied,
although I dance with you to our first tune,
float by on the canals beneath the moon,
the oar for this gondola you supplied.
The yellow coat I thoughtfully recall,
I hung my reverie on your door hook,
I remembered hungrily every book
you recommend, every word read, the small
bowed tell-tale things I cold not forget:
your leather briefcase, your love of dark
coffee, Turkish tea that started it all––
the contest of wills to see who was met
by strangers in foreign lands and who stayed
home. But we both had degrees of straying.