Silken Stuff
She buys a scarf, a memory of
the places that they used to go
She ties it all around her head
And every time she wears it now
The little slip of silken stuff
Reminds her that
She was enough
He brings a scarf from faraway
A little slip of silken thread
He tucks it in his leather bag
Between his business shirts and stuff
Amidst the sights and fantasies
And all the places that he’s been
She knows that even faraway
She’s been remembered on that day
And that she is enough
So many times he goes away
Till every country is the same
Hotels
Dinners
Meals
And deals
Shaking hands
Exchanging names
Playing endless corporate games
Before he boards the last flight out
His trusty PA must sneak out
And thrust into his attaché
A packaged slip of silken stuff
A “memory” of his time away
To let her know he thought of her
And that she is enough
Soon she has so many scarves
So many memories
His, not hers
And all reminders of the times
She’s been alone
With nothing but
A “leave a message at the tone”
And so she gathers up her scarves
And ties them all upon the trees
And in the breeze they flutter there
like multi-coloured bunting
free
He sees the tail lights leaving as
He pays the cab and trundles up
The driveway underneath the trees
Of flapping silken stuff
and sees
The years and years
of not enough
Then one day, a wondrous thing
Upon the breeze a-fluttering
His fingers lift it up to see
If she, delighting in it,
may be
kinder than she was of late
When bitterness was all she had
And all her love had turned to hate
And maybe in that silky moment
He could twist the hand of fate
Into his pocket
Slips the scarf
And prays that he is not too late
And as he looks between the rows of wispy scarves
And silken throws
He sees her face, though lined
Still fair
The silky scarf around her hair
It’s just a glimpse
But it’s enough
He runs
His heart feels like it’s done
If dying thus,
He must go on
And there she is
And there he is
With just his gift of silken stuff
The words have gone
His mouth has dried from all the tears that he has cried
And slowly from his pocket
his offering of silken stuff
Should she take his offering,
The little slip of silken stuff
Can love be more than what we have
To give
And is enough
Ever enough?
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