JUDITH AND YOU AND A MORNING MIST.

A BOY AND GIRL ONE SUNDAY MORNING BY A POND IN 1962.

The morning mist
that hung over

the pond (or your lake
as Judith called it)

had moved away
by the time she came

and stood next to you
wrapped up in her

Sunday best
waiting until the time

for the bus to take
you both to sing

in the church
her breath flowing out

on the air
like cigarette smoke

her eyes focused
on the skin

of the still water
I dreamt of you

last night
she said

you and I
were snuggled

together in my bed
having made love

you watched
a magpie take flight

over the water
nice

wish I could
have been there

in person
you said  

more breath
left her lips

and rose upwards
maybe next time

you can
she said

turning her head
spreading her lips

into a smile
just be my luck

your mother
will invade the dream

and catch us
you said

yes
Judith said

that would
spoil the dream

some what
there was a mist

over the pond earlier
you said

it looked beautiful
she turned

and stared
over the water

I missed that
as you missed

making love to me
in my dream

she whispered
drawing closer

her hands
taking hold

of yours
what did you

dream about?
she asked

an empty bed
and cold sheets

and a space
where you should

have been
you said

she smiled
and said

I couldn’t be
in both beds

at once could I?
once more

there was the rising
of her breath

you couldn’t tell her
you’d seen

an image
of her death.