For Anne Francoise.

 


This was a poem I wrote at the age of 20 when the first girl I fell in love with went off and got engaged to someone else!

Loneliness
is buying coffee for one...
               without you;
is choosing new clothes
               without you;
is playing patience, not strip poker
               with you;
is wrapping Christmas presents for everyone
               but you
is buying my brand of cigarettes
               not yours;
is answering the phone knowing it’s
               not you
is crying on a shoulder that’s
               not yours;
is sitting at a table
               without you;
is chatting to friends but thinking
               about you;
is drinking and talking and eating and walking and praying and laying...
               without you;
is Christmas, New Year, Easter,
               Spring,
               Summer,
                              Autumn and
                                Winter
                without you;
loneliness is...                without you.

I recognise a degree of ‘poetic’ licence in the above (apart from anything else Anne didn’t smoke) but reading it again after all these years makes me wonder how she is. There is always a special place in a person’s heart for their first love.