A century later, we will look back

and laugh together at the images on

crystal balls that are memories- perhaps

the distorted sound will be palpable

as it floats through the walls of time.

Our laughter might then be polite

chuckles but we like to imagine

the same chortling cacophony.

It will not be. So we give each other

what we can in between each breath

of constricting liberty that is duty; silent

apologies and gratitude we can only hope

will be recognised. And then, when it is almost

over and there is nothing left but goodbye,

it will be said and we will guiltily let ourselves

succumb to excitement for this is what

we will have been waiting for.


And perhaps someday we will peel the

sticky surface of a photograph off a page

in an old book.

And perhaps we will smile.