It’s the same, yet different after decades,
the smell of aftershave, a fleck of foam
left on the mirror, and the sense of home
ebbs out as you leave, courage fades a few shades.
You’ll say nearness is nothing, I know you will;
once I had said it too, and could ignore
who came in and went out of my front door.
I could breathe a smell and smile and sit still.
And even as time blends and changes things -
love grows a deeper, richer underground seam,
I fidget a bit now in the slipstream
and I parse the patience in my feelings.
I once knew to be content with faint smells;now I'm made breathless by distance, and farewells.