without apology

i close the door behind you.
you go, weary of waiting
for words that aren't forthcoming.
 
the air conditioner hums,
and it seems solitude
has an artificial chill.
 
slowly, slowly, you go,
hesitating, as if. . .
as if even now i might run,
asking pardon
for not needing you.
 
it's too cold here,
summer is too easily denied
entrance to this empty house.
 
finally you are gone.
turning from the window,
i do not weep.
 
preserved in the chill air
are illusions of youth,
the pretense of happiness,
the first blush of supposed love.
 
i have no apology to give
for clinging to those things,
for watching you go.

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Great work *grace! Skillfully captures the moment.~Silhouette
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thanks, sil...and thanks for signing my guestbook...:) writing is worthwhile for the sake of writing. taking the time and effort to make one's writing public is made worthwhile by kind words. *grace
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as "maturity" arrives, where has that wonderful exciting time of youth gone to... lovely poem *grace, enabling the arousal of sentimental emotions. ~ audee
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this is a good poem, i like it INZANE