I’d driven to your mind, parked up and paid the fare,
Or ‘the price’, perhaps.
When I stepped out eagerly, worriedly,
I searched for your happiness, inspecting dark crevices.
That’s usually where your happiness lurked,
Like a recidivist in an alley, awaiting another victim.
Happiness like a leap year, a comet, a UFO sighting;
Happiness a tease, a flirt, a hand proffering an apple.
Happiness suggesting hope.
I’d searched in rain (of course), your company a bluster,
A recurring gust.
What the wind whispered to me I ignored,
Against my better judgement.
I’d parked there before, I knew the terrain
Like a cat knows its way home.
Only I’d returned with a freshly lit torch,
Which doesn’t change the scenery.
Light suggesting hope.
What I found warranted no reportage,
No sensationalist headline.
What was there was there before,
As cliffs appear to remain the same within the human cycle.
A new beginning suggests hope,
But I’m too experienced for such a word.
Image by by Dominik Lange.