Time Zones Heal All Wounds

Sometimes

I don’t hear you whispering

In the hushed tropical breeze created by a butterfly’s wing

That you have never seen

I don’t see your eyes in the fluttering blue of the sea

That you have never sailed

I don’t smell you in the burnt coffee mornings

That you never sipped

Or the sawdust remains of a workday afternoon

That you have never measured

Sometimes

I don’t taste your sweet tongue

in a honey’d dawn or dusky mango flesh

I don’t feel your fiery heat

Rising from the baked clay earth beneath my feet

On these paths you have never taken

In  those some times zones

I think

Triumphantly

See

I’ve forgotten him.