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