When I was gone it sprouted.
The same sun blustered
on a different step.
No one called through the airs.
When I was gone,
they were free of my face laughter.
But it turns out he sat on an even different step,
waiting for me,
grass in my hair,a one-week farm woman.
he hugged me like the city.
I have kept this poem since 1969-1970 and high school, but have since lost the author's name and details after dozens of moves. I'm sure I cut it out of a Seventeen magazine and taped it into a book of memories. And I'm sure I gave it, heartfelt, to my boyfriend at the time.
I include it today because the theme of the week is Poem About an Aunt, and this poem reminds me of a week I spent on my aunt and uncle's farm in Londonderry, and the balm to my heart this poem gave me.