05 December 2007

10. Dear Sweet Sasha

Sweet Sasha,
you looked bored
(and were pulling
the threads out of your
sweater one by one
humming a Police song)
that day
until I walked in
you'd crossed my mind
once or twice.
Ever since then
I've felt you inside my mind
bottled up.
Sweet Sasha,
some things and
some people
stay around.
Some go. And come back.
Come back.
Whatever it was
(was it the boys? your grades?
the time I played with
your sister instead of you?)
whatever was done
I'll forget
I'll talk
I'll plea.
Sweet Sasha,
an anxious love poem
is a poor replacement
for live declaration.
Give me the time
to do better
next time.

S.

p.s. Do you speak German?

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