I walked that evening across that bend
Past each known bush and where we first met.
Past the old house of my old friend
Past paths that lead to the church’s exit.

No one passed me as I strolled.
Hand in sleeve, and my hands grew cold.
I was easy company, at our sad ease
No chivalry, no curtsies

The lights glow on, who lives here now
Neglects the garden.
I take the turn and you are gone

Is aloneness a sign
Of greater wisdom in design
The torque of me and mine

Some talk of failing and some of love
That terms are reckoned from above