There was a redhead once
in tight cut offs
He hears soft melodies without words,
sees open spaces, mountains from
train windows
His reading habits are gone,
unable to concentrate, scans
gray days, staring at nothing,
places he once knew
Her voice, their moment,
abruptly stopping,
heads cocked over a bridge,
happily pointing to a swirl
What was that they saw?
There’s a wall with ivy on it
but from where?
Were there walls where
enemy soldiers were stood
in rows and shot,
or did he just dream that?
He sees her face
on every other woman walking by
She could be the woman
from the forgetting time
before the time of forgetting