When I first came to town, knowing no one
I felt like that, like there was no one
Anywhere
Oh- there were faces, but
There was no one
And there are days—
I walked through the house today
Her purple plaid backpack underneath the table
Calendar on the desk
Books piled in the bookcase
And I realize it is just like before
She will be gone soon
They will all be gone
And if you ask me
Nothing has really changed
Some things never change
I can circle these rooms
A hundred times
And nothing will change
Time can’t be spun backward
And forward again
As if by some magic turn
I could make it somehow happen
If I couldn’t then, then I surely can’t now
Melancholy, it is, especially with the rain
That consistently shows up
And the cold is really the only thing dependable
If I lived near the sun, then at least
I’d have a warm and sunny constant
The rain and the cold and the sun. I wish for you the constant sun, friend, in the melancholy of change.
Thank you, Ann.