Dilute

I’ve been drinking half-latte since you’ve gone;

seems fitting – this dilution when alone,

that the strength and taste of coffee should change-

half the richness, the spoon’s lonely one-mug plunge,

the very rims of cup, contents and home.

Nearness underpins all manner of things,

the scents and concentrations of my mornings,

the places and glasses set at my table.

Distance makes my words flicker, disables

them in fade-out grey, slightly shifts the meanings.

The worlds spin the same, and my life too turns

regardless of when you leave and return.

I drink my coffee, I write the verses down;

I chat with friends, mention you’re out of town;

I find new frames for words like ‘lone’ and ‘yearn’.