Sometimes

Sometimes,

when winds of

discontent blow

loud and hue my

heart with longing,

I think of you

lying outstretched on

that living room floor,

stoned off too much

blow.

Your languid limbs

stretched out and

drew the Sun’s gaze

to your frame

illuminating

the dusty rug

on which

you lay

in that old

student house.

Oblivious to

it all,

you drew

my gaze too.

Someone else

belonged to you

but that view

was mine

alone, so I

keep it to

myself and when

the loud winds

blow I kid that

which I know

and say:

I think of you,

only sometimes.