Parsing

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.