by Rutger Kopland
They had to go, of course, I'd seen it
in their faces slowly changing from those
of children into those of friends,
from those of then into those of now.
And felt and smelt when they kissed me,
their skin, their hair, no longer intended
for me, not as before,
when we still had time.
In our house a world had grown of desire,
joy, pain and sorrow, in their rooms,
where they collected what they would
be taking with them, their memories.
Now they're gone I look out of their windows and see
exactly the same scene, exactly the same
world of twenty years ago,
when I came here to live.