22nd April 2009
I once knew a man named Gregory, who had the biggest heart.
He walked some hundred miles across a desert
and told me we would never be apart.
When he returned,
I felt like he had never left.
But when he went again,
it felt like he was gone forever.
He left me notes and coins in a little bag;
amongst them, little silver ring.
Before he left he said, “You are my everything”.
He went to the war and somehow I envisaged he would never come back.
Two years passed and finally, a note.
It took me hours to understand what he wrote;
I was never his, and he was never mine,
whatever we had was gone.
I watched my tears stain the page and rested to sleep away the hurt.
In time I came to move along but never found another,
the love I had for my dear Greg had never faded ‘way,
and while I knew,
while I imagined,
there wouldn’t be a day.
Not a day that I would ever see his face again,
or move again,
and know that he was there.
The war had come and gone,
I lived alone, alone all along.
There was a knock at my door one morning,
and I opened the door a crack.
The man I once knew so many years ago had finally come back,
he wanted me, he wanted love,
he was sorry for the fault.
Somehow I forgave him, and the pain had gone away;
I knew my Gregory would come back one day.