I never miss her when I hear her name,
or when I see her walking ’round our work,
or when I hear her laugh — ’tis all the same,
I hardly even notice anymore —
I only feel it slightly when she smiles.
The dreams have even stopped, they’ve grown so bored
of her — it really only took a while.
So now have I discovered I am free.
Yes, seeing her no longer is a trial.
But then the scent of strawberries touches me,
as though it rose from off her hair to sip
the air around, and brings the memories
all back. So all security then slips.
It tastes like powdered sugar on my lips.
© Copyright 2002 by Paul Lytle. All rights reserved.