"She Never"

 

She never tasted my special rice,
   a treat that required rosemary and thyme
   to simmer for hours
 which made the rice long for Indonesia.

She never cared for me when I was sick, 
   my health unnaturally buoyed
   by my undaunted faith
   in our Romantic Destiny. 

She never heard my vocal group, 
   daring in its conceit, 
   wildly funny, sometimes,
   yet innocent, somehow.

She never met my friends,
   whose eyes would have questioned
   the wisdom of my selecting
   someone so different
 (yet similar in my eyes)
 that they’d have been blinking at me for weeks.

In our brief but potent four months together
   she saw and felt many things.

Herself,
   or rather
   her selves,

 were not one of them.

 

 

March 2019

 

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©2019, Michael Smolens