Raymond Alan Reid

Already Departed

In the cold room we stepped
Into the smell of warmed polish
Well rubbed into the grain
It was just as before
Maturity did not grow new
Eyes or smother truth with
The trades material magic
The silent music that creeped
Out of the walls blended like magic
Those sensible open-curtains
That always draws attention from
Saddened pity to empty dullness
Swallowing lumps that pierce
Tears at the thought
Of entering the next room
While gripping ones own fists
Until white with surrounding
Tear-shaped red marks
How the moments of being
Alone with nothing less
Than two bodies without company
Is it love, respect, pity
Or just extreme curiosity
That draws us here?