Our past is bound

And sold away
For cents that brought
Us victory,
But still on these October days

I miss the outline of your face.

And there was
Emptiness
In the spaces of time
Where your lips were meant to
Envelope mine;

And even as off course
As you were
You linger in passages
Where I stir-

Where some part of my spirit
Longs for yours.

And low-
Sings the buildings
That I know
That hug the streets I used to Roam-

They'll tell you of how I left that Home-
The day I let you go.

And bound between the covers
Are
The vacant sheets
Of fading words

And the melodies
I miss today-

Of what October sold away.