Missing Someone Never Met

She misses him,

"Wide Brimmed Hat"
by Polish artist Tamara De Lempicka,
1933

the man she thought
that he'd become, if given
time (she gave that, and
much more), a man who truly
loved her to his very core, who
yearned for understanding of
each cell, each nook and
cranny of her intellect, her
laughter, smile, the mole there
on her back a thing of wonder
just because she wears it well.
He'd tell you that he loves her,
as he tells her now and then if
something in her eyes breaks
through the barriers and frightens
him. It's clear his definition is as far
from hers as Now is far from Then,
back when she fell in love, not
with a man, but with the man
she thought that he'd become
but never did. She misses someone
met in dreams, in tearful prayers,
time wasted on a spectral lover
who was never real.



(c) Ellen Gillette, 2015

Angst, Inside Out

He doesn't love me.
                                                            So?

It must be my fault.
                                                             No!

He doesn't want me.
                                                             Go.

He lied.
                                                             Let go.

I've cried.
                                                             Now grow.

You mean...?
                                                              Just show...

My heart...
                                                               Aglow.

Alone...
                                                               And solo.

Not forever, though.
                                                                I know.

I'm worthy.
                                                                Oh!

I'm loveable.
                                                                 Hello.




(c) Ellen Gillette, 2015

Husband Number Two

He must have been a boor
before he died and left her
after almost forty years.
She'd wed him in her 20s,
plenty sure he was the one
but as it happened, not the last,
nor (if my observation was correct,
collected in an chance encounter)
was he best. She mentioned Husband Two
(that's you) was polar opposite of One
and you're a clearly grand
and charming man of cheer,
still working, evidently sweet
on her, this younger wife by six,
which means when you turn 89 next year
your dear will only be
a blushing 83. Last loves can be as full,
or better, than the first, a nice reminder
from kind people like the Vermont dairy man
and his younger, much loved bride.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2015