Hazel Hall

I HAVE been combing the sands of my thought for you—

You

Who left me the trace of your fragrance

In lieu of yourself,

A pungency as of sandalwood,

Or things lain long in lavender,

Very faint,

But of a stabbing sweetness.

Now that I have found you,

Your delicate coloring,

Which once delighted me,

Has faded in the wash of many tides.

Yet you can still

Sting the tears to my eyes,

Little Phrase-someone-said-to-me-long-ago,

Who might have meant so much

But who meant so little.

But I think—

I have untangled you from the seaweed of forgotten things,

I think I shall toss you back into the sea!