This time when he proposed, the answer was no.
No courthouse wedding and
honeymoon in Mexico;
no house in the suburbs,
no little girl with dark, curly hair.
And so, my homeless soul hovered
elsewhere
and waited to be wanted.
1959
by
Comments
19 responses to “1959”
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You nailed it, sarahssouthwest. Loss is the name of the game.
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Thank you, fireblossom32. So glad you enjoyed!
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Yes, fractal art is wonderful; often I use fractal or abstract images to illustrate my poems. Saying no is a special kind of courage. In your case, it seems, no meant no.
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A “no” to something may mean “yes” to something better!
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The mercurial nature of reality and the possible infinite parallel universes… Your poem is wistful looking at a life that will never be born but in your mind. I think of a time my then-partner proposed at a rainbow gathering in New Mexico, and the sad history of us left there in that meadow when I realized it would never be.
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How very sad about the rainbow gathering. Thank you for sharing your insights. Interesting!
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aka, The Abject Muse 
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