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.