It is good that you came.
Not good in a conventional sort of way-
Like I feel when I see my mother
After staying away for too long
-But just good. Like watching an eagle soar.
Or hunting for stones on a moss-covered floor.
Or tomato soup on a rainy day.
We stood at the door
And I wondered why your eyes bewitch me
They cannot even exist
I cannot even fly
It hurts that you left
Not the way it would if I lost a good book
Or lost my eyesight, for that matter
It just hurts. Like an old gramophone
That my grandfather used to play
Is lost to us now.