The Last Lover

Mist on my Grapevines

Just because we don’t walk in rain

under that striped umbrella anymore,

me in my big brown sweater

and you in your jean jacket,

doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten

or that it wasn’t real,

doesn’t mean I don’t think of you

everytime I see a buckeye,

farmhouse or trumpet vine,

a cup of black coffee

or an old red barn.

We always knew in our logic

that too many years stood

between us, too many miles,

too much life,

but I wanted you to know

that when I sit on the porch

and the wind sweeps in on me,

I feel your kisses on my hair

and when the rain mist blows

over me, I feel your tears

on my cheeks;

listen, farm boy,

when years still my agility,

my wit and my dreams,

it will still be you,

always you,

even when it can be

no one at all.

7 thoughts on “The Last Lover

  1. Your writing always touches me to my soul. I wish we could have known each other. I know we would have been the best of friends.

  2. Thank you, Connetta. I appreciate your kindness and your visiting so very much.

    KC Girl,

    I am glad to hear you say this. Please come back whenever you have a chance. In saying this, your words have also touched my soul. Thank you.

    Nochipa

  3. Nochipa
    You have created something that lovers of all ages can relate to.
    I did tell you that this:
    but I wanted you to know

    that when I sit on the porch

    and the wind sweeps in on me,

    I feel your kisses on my hair

    and when the rain mist blows

    over me, I feel your tears

    on my cheeks;
    is something to hold onto.
    mybest
    Scot

  4. Thanks, Scot.

    You know how it is though, sometimes things have to be as they are because they cannot be another way, both in reality and in poetry. But you are very kind.

    Nochipa

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