Singularity - Wendy Maitland

This place is our place,
I can feel you in the air:
Every breath breathes you to me,
Teasingly in the way we were;
As at my feet these same stones,
Old and worn on this dry path,
Sigh and sing, calling your name.

Nothing changes.
Heat rises up as before,
Intoxicating with the smell
Of grass and dust, and us;
Our place, but not our time.
The world moves on without you,
But I am standing still.

Wendy Maitland