The Path in the Fog

for L & R, March 2002

by oosh@gmx.net


Of course, it had to be a foggy day
When they delivered the stones.
Could we wait? No, we could not.
At once it had to be laid out.

Did I laugh more, or more curse?
I cannot remember. I can only remember
You laughing, laughing: No, not there,
A little to the left. Yes, there.

I wonder what a stranger's eye will see,
When the hot sun burns off the mist;
Will they see, as I must always see,
That in that path each bend and curve is you?

This is yours, the path you tread:
When the fog comes down again,
Arms outstretched, I'll follow it,
Knowing I shall find you there.