Shadow Play

My mind is a movie theatre.

Every blink of his eyelashes,

every step of his sneakers

casts its shadow on my screen of memory.

I pause and rewind the film

to watch him

in glowing Technicolor.

I add dramatic, haunting echoes

to his voice,

saying ‘hello’ and especially ‘goodbye’.

I remember him in elegant slow-motion

and low angles to make him taller.

But when the curtain falls

and the projector switches off,

I’m left alone:

Audience, director and actress

with a missing co-star

(if he was ever there)

and a crumpled ticket in my hand.