FebulousFebruary 2025: Lost and Found

Vision

I thought it was the We

I could see,

the Us,

underneath our overcoats of ordinary.

We stared at each other,

skirting around our dresses,

hoping for a morsel of close,

some free-will, blown by the wind.

But the glasses we each wore were different –

Mine, mostly made for reading,

a matronly angle across my nose –

Yours, a humble, horn-rimmed set,

belied the hatred behind the glare of glass.

A non-love, not of me, but of your own, beguiling self.

My vision could not pierce this.

No infra-red roar

no laser love

no x-ray specs for me.

I squinted at you sideways.

Karen Finley

Brighton