In your absence, all the things that were most important held me in relief.

Tonight, as I tried to find my place in the darkness, I remembered our night in late June, when winter was breaking.

I was late, and you were waiting; warmed by coffee and the virtual camaraderie in the surround of strangers.

I wondered if you would remember me. But you did. You saw me, and held me in sight, so that I could not be lost or lose you in the bright melee.

Between then and now, and back to that night that changed everything. When you stole my hand in the public garden, before the fountain, before gingerbread houses of brick and mortar, before the clouds marched across the sky.

How did you find me? How did you know? How did you know then?

(Questions mark hooks for answers.)

And tonight warmer, me: more beautiful than before, and you: so far away. Now, more than ever you should be beside me. People came and tried for your role. Flattering as it was. Others showered me in compliments or smiled. 

I did not tarry to give time to those who sought me. Even though their reputation shone brightly, I aspired for the anonymity of dark side streets.

The first to leave, without remark; I wrapped myself against the cold and hurried through cistern laneways.

Tonight, as I found my place beside that June night, now more alone, you stand in greater relief reminding me of summer waking.